Nice of you to think of me
by CloudwatcherNumbuh7
Summary: This is SLASH. After five years at a private school, Bart returns, hoping to forget about his experiences. Bob/Bart a little Nelson/Bart and some Bart/OC as well. Bart is also 17 when the romance starts. Adopted this story from tea-cake-biscuits.
1. Ch 1 A Fresh Start

**Hey to everyone. This is the new writer to Nice of you to think of me, cloudwatchernumbuh7. I hope that everyone enjoys the chapters I am going to add. :) I would like to thank ****tea-cake-biscuits**** for letting me adopt her story did not start as mine, so please give credit to tea-cake-biscuits for starting it.**

** Just so the readers know the only real difference in my chapters compared to the first 17 is that I write in different characters POV (point of view), so I hope that people like it. I am going to keep every single one of the last author's chapters exactly the same, just so everyone knows.**

**Summary: After "Funeral for a Fiend" (episode 8, season 19) Springfield has grown tired with Bart's antics, resulting in him being sent to a private school. Five years later, he's back, times have changed, he's got another baby sister and an adopted cousin, but some things from his school life return to haunt Bart, and a lot more is about to happen.**

**Author's note: Okay, I am aware that Simpsons is a cartoon, and I'm probably taking these issues WAY too seriously, but to be honest, it worked as the basis of a fic for me!**

**This fic doesn't take every single Simpsons episode in account, and I have changed a few things around. When Bob first goes to prison, Bart is only eight, and when Bob returns for "Funeral for a Fiend" he is twelve. Bob is about sixteen to seventeen years older than Bart - yeah I know he's much older in the series, but you can imagine whatever you want.**

**This is a Bob/Bart pairing with some Nelson/Bart and some Bart/OC.**

**I don't own anything, except the plot... well maybe not even that, but I can't be assed to explain. **

**Read, review, flame, dance around naked - whatever you want. I'm not fussed.**

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><p>After the last horrific encounter with Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, Bart Simpson had felt confident that as usual, there would be the usual resentful apologies from the people that had unleashed the monster. He had thought he'd receive even more from the way he'd been treated; the people who blamed Bob's insanity and apparent death on him. Him! A twelve year old boy capable of such a thing? Yes, it was true that Bart probably <em>had <em>caused Bob's mental stability to worsen over the three years he'd been in and out of prison, but hadn't it been Krusty the Clown who started it? Krusty was the one who caused Bob unnecessary humiliation to entertain his young audience. Krusty was the one who lured him into 'low-quality' entertainment, and Krusty was the one who coerced him into six years of physical discomfort and risk for the sake of his show. And yet _Krusty_ was one of many who pointed the finger of blame at Bart, who supported the plan to send the kid to Tornstone, and then happily reconciled his friendship with Bob.

"Look, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson," Principal Skinner had said gravely the following week, "we, as are you, are really rather tired of this… 'Coyote and roadrunner' act between your son and Mr. Terwilliger. Alright, I'm sure all of Springfield can accept that Bart shouldn't have been treated so… harshly over the Terwilliger family case. He may _not_ have been the primary cause of Terwilliger's insanity, but you can't deny that over the years he would've played a significant part in it."

Homer cut in, "Oh God, you're not gonna expel him are you? Nowhere else'll take him I tell you! We'd be forced to sell him or something!"

"Homer!" snapped Marge.

Principal Skinner chuckled nervously, glancing to his left where Ms Krabappel, Superintendent Chalmers and Mayor Quimby sat, all looking equally as grave, yet somewhat more self-assured.

"We… no we… well-..." Skinner started before Krabappel cut across him.

"We aren't expelling your son, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson," she said rather tiredly, "now if you agree with what we have to say, it _will_ involve Bart leaving this school, BUT there would be a strong replacement for his education."

"Mmmm… I'm not sure I understand," said Marge, frowning slightly.

"Tell me about it! I feel that way _all the time_," Homer snorted and began drawing on Skinner's over-polished desk.

Before Skinner could object, he was again interrupted, this time by Chalmers;

"Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, I have here a booklet about a school in Tornstone. Tornstone Private School, do you know it?"

Marge and Homer shook their heads.

"It's a school for boys with… problems, be it behavioral, learning or emotional…"

"Bart doesn't have a problem!" snapped Marge defensively.

"No… not a problem, I apologize, that wasn't what I meant…" Chalmers face mutated into an ugly sneer as he continued reading the file in his hand, "Although your son _has _been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder."

"Yes, well," spluttered Marge "it's not that uncommon, and it's really only a lack of concentration."

"Hah! Putting it _lightly_," said Krabappel, coldly.

"The thing is, Mrs. Simpson," Skinner cut in quickly, "Tornstone School, although I know it sounds patronizing the way we're describing it to you right now, it's produced some great results from boys who have had difficulty and… well… what with… recent events…"

That was when Mayor Quimby spoke up in his robotic drone of a voice; "Tornstone School is… it's actually an uh, specialized boarding school, so your son would stay there during the entire term, and, uh… from the trouble that was caused last week, your son isn't exactly, uh, popular… a feeling I'm uh… all too familiar with."

"Hey! But Bart's innocent remember? Sideshow Bob wasn't dead, and then he tried to cremate the boy alive!" Homer thumped his fists on the desk, drawing amusement from the irritated twitch this action caused in Skinner's left eye.

"Yes, but your boy still causes trouble for Mr. Terwilliger, and as Seymour said, your son still plays a strong part in his mental stability," said Chalmers; still smirking cruelly, "Just… take this prospective booklet… maybe pay a visit up to the school? Even if you don't agree about the Terwilliger case, you may want to consider your son's… education. I can assure you that even if _you_ don't send Bart there, Springfield High School will."

The meeting had continued for another half an hour. Marge, with some support from Homer still defended their son over his personal intentions, but eventually took the booklet for Tornstone and agreed to have a look.

Marge had thought about the situation a lot. She loved her son dearly, but had always known about his problems. Perhaps Homer's disinterest in the entire subject, or her own fear of Bart taking an irritating revenge on her drove her to visiting Tornstone Private School herself.

Or, it was the far more profound feeling of fear she'd had when she'd heard one quite simple statement from the psychiatrist who confirmed Bart's disorder about a year before; _"Even the most common of disorders can develop into something more serious, but I feel, Mrs. Simpson that you are looking into this rather too much."_

The school took boys from the ages of twelve to eighteen, though there was also a college in the same building where boys could stay for a further two years if they wished. There was a church service every Sunday morning, good meals, good medical staff, good teaching staff…

It was an opportunity. How many more scholarships for this kind of education would come along? And for Bart, too! There was the option of refusing; surely Springfield would forgive Bart in no time, but like Chalmers had said, what about Bart's education? Marge didn't like having to leave notes in Bart's lunchboxes saying things like: _"Please behave." _And _"Just do _something _constructive, okay?"_

Maybe this way she was giving Bart a second chance in his education. In an atmosphere that was strict, though that may seem cruel at first, would encourage him to work.

After Marge consulted Homer about the subject, for which she received: "Marge, I sat on the TV remote and now I'm too scared to look for it!" in reply, she decided to put her foot down on this. Bart was going. Bart was going to be encouraged in his education, not knocked back and discouraged like her husband had been by his father.

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><p><strong>First chapter. I hope you like it... though I know nothing much has happened. If you don't like it, I could always take it down... but I'm not going to. XXX<strong>


	2. Ch 2 Tornstone The Early Years

Bart's first three years at Tornstone had been very slow and difficult. Just one week after having started there Bart got terrible feelings of déjà vu after his third disagreement with his sarcastic English teacher;

"You're not 'misunderstood and creative' as your mother put it, Simpson, merely incompetent."

He couldn't understand, tease or even pity the hostile teachers whose system wasn't to motivate or inspire their students, but to control them, dominate them, and not allowing any to voice their own opinions.

If one teacher wasn't scary, they were always sarcastic, arrogant or just plain cruel. The Principal, Mr. Rowntree was terrifying, who despite being unable to inflict any physical harm to the boys, would _scream _at them, although his voice was so booming, Bart had once commented that he "nuked" at them, also due to the extreme amounts of saliva one was sprayed with if they got in the firing line.

But perhaps the most puzzling aspect of the school was the very old-fashioned "ragging system". It was a system that Bart had never heard of before and there was no formal assembly or anything to explain it. His truly naïve mother had just said: "It means that the older boys look after you, see they've been through it all. You should ask them for advice."

But his mother hadn't understood what ragging was at all. It wasn't that the older boys "looked after them". Boys from the age of seventeen were given much better sleeping dormitories than the younger. They were able to choose their own subjects, didn't have to take part in any sport or have to do chores. They were given charge of the younger boys, ideally meaning that the little ones would do chores for them, or they would keep an eye on them during the day, and were permitted to give out detentions. Unfortunately, this kind of power shouldn't just be handed out this way. Some of the older boys were just as vile as the teachers, and obviously reveled in this suddenly easy access to bully victims.

The ragging system didn't affect Bart particularly whilst he was a very young teenager. Like the other boys he fetched things for the twelfth graders, cleaned things, made their beds and received a few crude remarks about his behavior, upbringing and spiky hair, but he got those from practically everyone. Not that all of the guys were bad, and every year there would be a new set of twelfth graders.

His friendships back in Springfield began to fade after just one year at Tornstone. Of course, Milhouse remained ever-faithful via a letter from time to time, but their contact remained very general, almost businesslike. Neither of them were particularly good writers, thus their letters were very informative but not very heartfelt.

So when Bart first really began to pine for his mother and Milhouse's presence, he'd attempted to write them proper letters, since they were rarely allowed to use the telephone. Writing to his mother was relatively easy; he could be as sentimental as he liked. But after an hour of frustration; scrunching up prototype letters and chucking them in the bin, thumping his fists and head against the desk and allowing silent, exhausted tears to stream down his face, Bart realized he'd never be able to express himself to his oldest friend properly without a load of grammatical mistakes and sounding "gay". He didn't feel like that toward Milhouse, but it was just impossible to communicate how he felt without sounding like he did. Even if he did just give in and send it, what if Milhouse took it to school and showed everyone? Bart wouldn't be there to stop him, and he could be completely and utterly humiliated without even being present. He knew it was harsh to assume that Milhouse could do such a thing, but Bart had to guiltily admit: he'd probably do it himself.

Every single time Bart went back to Springfield during a vacation there would be a family dinner, usually consisting of his parents, Grampa, Lisa, Maggie, Patty, Selma and once they were born or introduced: Josie and Ling. And at every one of these dinners, Homer would loudly joke about how _Bart_ had turned out to be the one who got a scholarship to an expensive school. Apart from Homer, no one had ever found this occurrence funny, and it was usually Bart and Lisa's cue to leave the table.

It was almost as difficult for Bart to come back to Springfield as it was to leave it. His family was always happy to see him, but they'd never speak about anything other than that fucking school. His attachment to home life and fear of any lingering resentment from Springfield prevented him from going out; he needed the normalcy of sitting in front of the TV, or reading his comics with Milhouse in his bedroom. Because of this, he hated the two-week family vacations that occurred during summer break. Why two weeks? What did his family have to get away from for two weeks? Bart had already missed so much from being away so long. He'd missed Ling being adopted, missed Josie being born, missed his friends, his birthdays, missed the second _Itchy and Scratchy_ movie…

Bart's spirits were not exactly broken by Tornstone, but he was suddenly very aware of when, where and on whom it was sensible to pull pranks and make jokes. The teachers where hopeless for any kind of fun; they wouldn't indulge in any of the boy's comments; instead they just sent them to either the Principal's office or the older boys. One time, when he was fourteen, Bart was sent to Principal Rowntree's office and he'd been reduced to tears; whether out of sheer misery, stress or fear of the huge man he didn't know, but after about half an hour of constant verbal abuse on how pathetic he was, and how he was born in a bad background and would die in a bad background, he'd just opened the door and rushed out. He'd instantly called home, begging his mother to let him come back, but she hadn't understood at all;

_"Sweetie, you've got to stop backing down just because one bad thing happens to you. We knew you probably wouldn't like the school at first, but already your grades have gone up because you can _concentrate _in that environment! Now don't you dare try to get worse grades just so we'll let you come back, because we won't. I know you'll hate us for this for a while, but please, PLEASE just endure it. You said yourself you're not being hit or anything, and you are bad sometimes. Oh! No, I'm sorry sweetie, that sounded awful, but you know what I mean. You _are _doing better. And I know you've got friends at Tornstone. You wouldn't want to leave them behind, would you?"_

And it was the latter sentence that made Bart think. He _did _have friends at Tornstone. Some who were far more troubled than he was. Thomas Carpenter was his… perhaps best friend, he was unsure. There were a group of them, all mismatched, who despite being unpopular usually managed to keep to themselves, for Bart at thirteen, had realized it was best to be this way. Yes, there was Thomas, or Tom. Julian Abbot, Peter Wendall, Bort Summers, Alan Chester and Paul McMasters.

Tom was a boy who like himself was at the school on a scholarship, only unlike Bart; he could have afforded to attend Tornstone without one. He was a rather meek boy, whose personality reminded Bart a little of Milhouse, and whose looks reminded him of Apu. He had dark skin, black hair, hazel eyes, and had to wear glasses to read. Out of their entire group, Tom was the person who Bart spent most time with, but Bart, to be entirely honest sometimes wondered why. Tom was the most un-daring boy he'd ever met; disliking the rare occasions Bart was permitted by the school to ride his skateboard. His parents, a rather awkward American father and stunningly beautiful Indian-American mother were very proud, strict, and expected high grades from him at all times. He too had ended up in tears the few times he'd been chastised by the Principal, and often ran to Bart for comfort.

By the time they were both fourteen they somehow, despite their differences shared a great affection for each other. Both were small, and Bart, then at about five foot three, had a nagging feeling in his gut that they might stay this way, since he'd had no growth spurt for a long time, and his own mother was just an inch taller than him, but he'd forgotten due to her enormous beehive. He had always had huge, pale blue eyes; it was a Simpson family trait. But along with big eyes he had a tiny, almost nonexistent nose, a small mouth and a little, pointed receding chin. As a child, he'd looked rather plain, and despite the beautiful eyes (which he'd used greatly to his advantage) and clichéd blonde hair; he'd definitely not been anything special, as well as being a rather chubby child.

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><p><strong>I'm afraid my chapters will probably be quite disjointed, but yeah.<strong>

**I always pictured older Bart as a blonde Michael J. Fox... doesn't matter if you don't agree. XD**


	3. Ch 3 The Act

At first Bart had been rather hostile to anyone who mentioned his height or prettiness. He'd thumped Tom quite often for it; and stubbornly repeated that his grandfather and father were both around six feet tall, so he was more than likely to reach their height as well. Unfortunately for Bart, he would only grow another two inches, but by this time he would have found an answer to his worries.

He'd had an interest in comedy since he was four thanks to Krusty the Clown, and now, what with his awareness of his lack of abilities or academic achievements, decided he should indulge that interest.

And so he invented Bessie.

Bessie was his stand-up comedy act. She'd come about when he'd been messing around in the school's drama dressing rooms one day. As punishment for scoffing at the plotline of _Romeo and Juliet, _his teacher had cast him as Juliet in their school play; "In Shakespeare's day, women weren't allowed to perform. So they usually got a 'young, beautiful boy' to perform the women's parts," she'd said, snidely.

After the incredibly boring interpretation of the play and Homer Simpson's loud snores had lulled everyone else into a kind of daze, the performance had been ended as quickly as possible, and Bart had, still in full itchy costume and makeup, said his goodbyes to his family, and then retreated to the dressing rooms. He was surprised that he hadn't been beaten to a pulp by the other boys for his role, instead a lot of people teased and commented on how convincing a woman he made.

"Oh, _brilliant,_" he'd said at the time. But then, after the other boys had changed and he was left alone, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. It was true. He _did _make a convincing girl... with the make up. A rather pretty one at that. His face was small, but would probably be quite plain if he didn't have such blue eyes, and he'd had to stencil over his eyebrows with liner because they were so pale and short. He'd giggled to himself, and crudely molded the nylon wig into a "Marge Simpsonesque" beehive. And after a lot of thought and after Tom walked in on him cavorting about in front of the full length mirror, Bart and Tom started to write material for this new character. As they both turned fifteen over the summer they developed her via phone calls and letters, and then finally, they had something solid.

So on Saturdays in the main hall, when there were regular entertainment nights that the boys themselves were allowed to arrange, Bart or rather 'Bessie' became the main attraction. It wasn't that it was funny _because_ Bart was dressed up as a girl, but because the material was so good, and Bart delivered it with such credibility.

It didn't make Bart and Tom popular, but did gain them some new respect around the school, and attracted another audience; the twelfth grade. They had already shown their faces in the hall occasionally, but slowly, more started to appear, as Bessie's popularity soared.

There was one night in particular that Bart would never forget. Tom would sometimes accompany him on stage, and Bessie would be included in sketches as well as stand-up. This had been one of those nights, when the two of them had been getting ready in the dressing rooms;

"You know, I really think we could get far with this," said Bart, applying his lipstick in the smudgy full-length mirror.

"I don't know… I mean you're great and everything… but I'm sure you'd find someone better to write with," Tom said quietly, straightening the obscenely large false moustache he was wearing.

"Hey, don't say that! I'd never write with anyone except you, you know that! I bet your parents would love it if they saw it." Bart marched over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Tom blushed; "You know, we _could_ just draw the lipstick marks on," he said.

"Yeah, but I think I prefer this way," whispered Bart, and gave him three more kisses; one on his chin, one on the nose, and one on the forehead. Their friendship was complicated and they didn't like to voice it very much; how many near-sixteen-year-old boys gave each other affectionate pecks, cuddled each other and told the other they were pretty? Whatever it was that drove this affection, they both knew it could never come to fruition. They had completely the wrong sort of chemistry with each other. It was a wonder they were even friends, really.

"Yeah, well _you_ would," Tom laughed.

They had performed well that night, one of the best ever. There had been a lot of laughter, and despite some catcalls and hecklers, they'd just provided their top-class comebacks. Afterwards, when they'd scrubbed off all their makeup and changed back into their own clothes, they'd returned to the hall where they were beginning to show the film _Dr. Strangelove _using the massively expensive projection unit. They'd joined Peter, Alan and Paul and quietly chatted among each other since the film was repeated so many times at the school it was now almost a bore.

And though now Bart couldn't remember at what point during the conversation it had happened, he'd suddenly become aware of someone staring at him. It was a familiar feeling, for the person doing it, had often stood staring at him with their dark blue eyes.


	4. Ch 4 Patrick Dawes

Patrick Dawes was then a boy of seventeen. He was in his first year of the sixth form, and was renowned as one of the biggest snobs. Bart's initial thought when he'd first set eyes on him… or rather really noticed him, was that he had the stupidest haircut he had ever seen. Or maybe it was that it was a haircut that was too old for him. His mousey brown hair was cut incredibly short at the back, but sort of combed over at the front, not that he needed it. He had an interesting face that Bart couldn't decide on at all. He was either ugly but with beautiful coloring or pretty with ugly expressions. His nose was definitely pretty; it was slightly upturned, but smoothly so, and his lips were very plump. He wasn't very tall, maybe about three or four inches taller than Bart was at this point.

Patrick was from a very wealthy family like Tom but again, like Bart, he seemed to have got in with a scholarship based on "problems", though no one had voiced what these might be. He was very snobbish, and had always been very uncouth to any of the boys less well-off than himself unless they were older. He was part of the group of twelfth graders who were particularly cruel in giving out punishments; sometimes giving them out to boys just to "toughen them up".

Now Bart had caught Patrick staring at him on a few occasions, more so this year than any other. Occasionally the older boy looked irritated at being caught out, but most of the time he just smirked at Bart and calmly went back to whatever he was doing. Bart had remained rather un-bothered by these occurrences through reminding himself that he'd rarely ever done chores for Patrick, and kept himself out of trouble reasonably enough, so the guy shouldn't hold any kind of grudge against him.

This time, Bart pretended not to notice Patrick's stare. He'd figured that the boy just didn't like him so this should have been the best option.

As the evening wore on, the rest of the students began to ignore the film too; some retreating to bed, though most remained to talk. Bart and his friends continued to chat and laugh and he forgot all about the boy staring at him. He was reminded, however, when a shadow fell over their table.

"Simpson," said a cold, sneering voice.

The four young boys looked up. Patrick Dawes and two other guys were leering down at them.

"…Yes?" Bart said, _just_ resisting the temptation to say: "Stupid-hair?"

"You'll come to our dorms with us. Chores for you," said Patrick, sneering down at him.

Bart stood up, slow as he dared. "Bu-…"

"Problem, Simpson?"

Bart hesitated; "Well… it's Saturday and I thought we didn't-…"

"You'll do as you're told," Patrick's voice was sharp "come on!"

And so Bart had followed them, feeling very unusual. This wasn't like the older boys at all. They usually told him precisely what he was to be doing and why. As they walked out of the hall and further out into the corridors, the peeling, painted walls became paneled and wooden; the more cared for part of the building. The ceilings became higher, the floor narrower and the light far less harsh on the eyes. It was very claustrophobic, and Bart realized they weren't going towards the twelfth grade dormitories at all, but to what was once a staff room, which had now been claimed by the older students.

"Umm, why are we go-…?" Bart started.

"We just want to have a chat with you, Simpson," said Ron, the taller blonde boy who gave him a wink.

They reached the room soon after that, and opened the door to a haze of smoke. The source of the smoke was from only two boys with cigars at the back of the room by the huge windows, clearly trying to look sophisticated, but one looking somewhat ridiculous because of not yet having lost his baby-face. To Bart's surprise and comfort, he saw two other boys from his own year and one just above. They were simply playing cards with four other twelfth graders, all looking very calm and comfortable, as though they often came here.

"Hey boys, I'm sure all of you have heard of Bart here," said Patrick, placing his arm around Bart's shoulders.

The other boys all nodded or mumbled their acknowledgement, except for one of the cigar smoking boys, a very tall boy named Eddie who often gave the younger boys orders but was more reasonable. Eddie gave Patrick a sincere look of dislike and a troubled glance at Bart.

The evening had passed very comfortably. After the boys playing cards finished their game, Bart, Patrick, Ron and the other boy John had joined them for a new one. Bart hadn't known how to play this particular game, so the others taught him. Bart's feelings of pride at being treated like an adult were only knocked back when he voiced his confusion on something and one of the older boys would say something like: "Aw, isn't he cute?" or "Ah, pretty face, small mind." But he was still too cautious to be indignant; Patrick rarely kept his eyes off him.

"So, Bart," Patrick started after a while, holding his cards up between his graceful hands and gazing at Bart over them; "how old are you now?"

"Fifteen," replied Bart.

"When will you be sixteen?" said Ron, looking intrigued and receiving a glare from Patrick.

"July 29th, why?"

"So you're one of the youngest?" said Patrick, ignoring Bart's question and looking disappointed for some reason.

"…In my grade, yeah," said Bart irritably.

"Do you wear contact lenses?" asked Ron.

"…No, wha-…"

"Hah! You owe me twenty dollars, John! Thanks Bart."

"Huh?" Bart was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Would you like to come here every Saturday, Bart?" Patrick was smiling at him.

"To play cards? Later though right, 'cause I do sometimes perform most Saturdays?" Patrick nodded, still smiling. "Sure, why not?" Bart smiled warmly back. The atmosphere of the room seemed safe enough… a little smoky perhaps but…

"Of course, you'll still have to do chores for us. But… if things go the right way, maybe we'll be more generous to a friend," said Patrick.

"Yeah, that sounds fair… but can I ask why-…?"

Patrick cut across him; "We may be twelfth graders; which means we have rights to certain things, but we're still human. All these guys," he gestured to the three other younger boys "are here because we've gotten to know them whilst they've done chores for us. With you, we're fans of your act, and we'd like to get to know you too."

Bart couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, "Well, thanks! But um, you do know that Tom writes the material as well, right?"

Patrick frowned and wrinkled his pretty nose slightly; "Tom?" he said, like it was something he couldn't quite remember but knew to be unpleasant.

"Yeah, Thomas Carpenter? I just… it's just I didn't want you to think the act is all my-…"

"Oh yes! The Indian boy," Patrick said rather bluntly. Then, like he'd just remembered something good, he smiled; "Maybe you could ask Tom to come as well then?"

"Sure!" Bart cringed at how overexcited his voice sounded; he thought briefly of Martin Prince.

It was well after midnight when the boys began to pack up and go to bed. At Patrick's "request", Bart stayed behind with him to help clean up a little; "We took over this room, so we have to clean it." He was surprised Patrick hadn't just given him the orders then gone to bed. They opened more windows to help get rid of the smoke, making the room cold. They picked up any obvious clutter and cleaned up some whiskey glasses in the little sink by the door. And all the time they did this, Patrick and Bart talked.

At first they just joked around; Bart doing his Bessie voice and Patrick mocking Principal Rowntree perfectly. Then Patrick suddenly changed and spoke mainly about himself; what his parents did for a living, how wealthy they were, how much allowance he got from them, how he was going to follow in his father's footsteps and so on. At first Bart had regretted at being so hasty in wanting to "get to know" the older boy, but after he'd grunted his obvious boredom and offense in reply to the most recent of Patrick's boasting, the older boy became suddenly very nervous;

"Oh… I'm sorry! I'm just… I'm awful at talking really. I didn't mean to insult you," Patrick looked uncharacteristically desperate and Bart was completely taken aback.

"That's okay… tha-…"

"I… um. Anyway, what about your family?"

"Oh! Um, well. My dad works at the nuclear power-plant in Springfield. I don't know exactly what he does there, but let's just say I probably know more about his job than he does."

Patrick laughed and Bart continued; "My mom doesn't have a job… she has once or twice if we've ever had money… problems," he blushed "but I think she quite likes being at home really. Um, I have three sisters…"

"Four kids?" Patrick snorted; conceit suddenly returned "Hah! Can't your parent's afford contraception or something?"

"Hey, man! You can't say stuff like that!" Bart threw down the dishcloth he was holding.

Patrick's eyes widened; "I'm so sorry! I... please don't… I'm sorry." He reached out his hand to Bart's shoulder, again looking so desperate that Bart didn't shy away from his touch.

"It's okay… but you can't just…" Everything went quiet.

"I'm sorry, Bart." It was barely more than a whisper.

Bart bit his lip and thought for a moment. Everyone knew that Patrick was a snob and quite cruel, but also that he'd been sent to Tornstone for very specific reasons. The boy could have ADD like he did, maybe worse.

As Bart chose to acknowledge that the older boy _did _seem genuinely sorry, he realized that Patrick's arm had risen and his fingers were grazing Bart's soft, spiky tresses.

"You're very fair, aren't you?" Patrick looked quite entranced.

A memory resurfaced at the back of Bart's mind. One that began to translate to his more mature understanding of the world today. But he pushed it away. It didn't need to be thought about.

"Yeah," Bart swallowed, not knowing what else to say.

"You should get to bed. Church tomorrow," said Patrick, and suddenly all his cool was restored.

"…Yeah. Err, 'you okay here?" Bart dried the last glass then opened the door.

"I'll be fine. You get to bed. And I _am_ sorry."

"It's okay. Goodnight Patrick."

Patrick never responded, but Bart would always be convinced that he'd heard him whisper "I'm sorry", quietly one last time. And the idea would always send shivers down his spine.


	5. Ch 5 Taking Advantage?

**There is some violence in this chapter... it's brief, but yeah. I can't promise I'll update this promptly all the time... my inspiration kind of fluctuates. I WILL finish it, however.**

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><p>It must have been after spring break that very year that Bart had awoken in Patrick's bed. He wasn't repulsed; the possibility of his… at least, <em>bisexuality<em> had been questioned and, he was pretty sure, confirmed through his and Tom's mutual affection for each other, and some gay pornography someone had thoughtfully left in the dressing rooms behind the stage.

Over the weeks leading up to this, Patrick and Bart had "gotten to know" each other. Bart had returned to the twelfth grade common room every Saturday to play card games and talk as he'd said he would. He'd brought Tom with him the second time, and they'd had a lot of fun. Occasionally they'd do the same on other nights as the older boys seemed to take a shine to them. Bart as always would stay behind with Patrick to help clean up and talk, but if there wasn't much to tidy, they ended up sat next to each other to speak alone. Patrick was, when he tried, quite amiable, and actually pretty funny in his own right. One night, just after spring break, somehow Bart had ended up on Patrick's lap and then, every night they'd taken to cuddling each other before bed. Sometimes they kissed. Sensing the same awkward situation akin to the one he shared with Tom, Bart had a week or so later tried to discuss it, but Patrick had instantly pushed him away but kept a hold on his wrists;

"There's _nothing _to talk about, Simpson," he said, coldly.

In spite of understanding immediately, Bart had felt fear and humiliation; "I-I'm…"

"This thing here isn't anything… It's not… r-right," Patrick stuttered slightly, like it was painful to get out, his face turning red with anger.

"…No?"

"No. You shouldn't make me do this… whatever it is. But we don't talk about it. Not now. Not ever. Go to bed. Now."

"Sorry," Bart said, his face burning with the embarrassment of rejection.

"NOW!"

After that, Bart assumed they were no longer friends, so the next day told Tom that he and Patrick had just had an argument, and that he didn't think he should go back on Saturday's.

"But the other guys still like you," Tom said, stroking Bart's hair fondly.

"I… I guess, but I think I'll just stay here next Saturday."

And he had done. He'd taken a night off from performing, and after watching the film _The Bodyguard _with the other boys, he'd retreated to his dorm and finished a letter to Milhouse. He'd gone to sleep in his own bed…

…only to wake up in Patrick's.

Bart was unsure what to do. He was lying on his back with Patrick's warm body facing away from him, probably very deliberately. He could hear two other boys getting dressed in the dorm. After a couple of minutes, Patrick's watch went off and the young man groaned, rubbed his eyes and then got up. He looked down at Bart but said nothing in reply to the boy's accusative, questioning stare. When he reached into the little closet beside his bed Bart gingerly sat up, feeling as if the whole world was gawking at him. But no one seemed at all surprised to see him there. On the other side of the room, the boy called Ron gave him a small wink, and John gave him a brief look of longing.

Even though Bart still had his pajamas on so knew that he and Patrick hadn't had sex, and that this probably meant they were still "friends", he couldn't stop the tears of panic from welling up or his bottom lip from wobbling. Patrick bent over him to try and conceal him from the other boys and, stroking Bart's hair whispered "Go and get ready for church," in his ear. Over Patrick's shoulder, Bart saw the boy called Eddie staring at Patrick's back in disgust, but because he looked away at that moment, he missed the look of concern he received from him.

That was one thing he didn't tell his family about that year.

For some reason, the thing that really stuck in Bart's mind from that morning had been when he'd walked out of the twelfth grade dorms and come face to face with a copy of the painting _The Scream _by Edvard Munch. He'd seen the picture before countless times, and had always found it a bit creepy, but for some reason, he'd never be able to look at it quite the same way again. For the rest of his life, it would always remind him of waking up in someone else's bed nearly every night for the next year. Of seeing other boys like himself in John and Ron's beds. Of someone's hands feeling him up when they thought he was asleep. Of John convincing him to let him masturbate him. Of Patrick on his last day at Tornstone.

That day had been both Bart and Patrick's last day at that place. It shouldn't have been, but it was. Bart was now sixteen and Patrick, not far off from nineteen was now in the college at Tornstone. Despite Bart's continuous returns to Patrick's bed, the two of them had not had sex. Neither of them attempted it, though it was clear that Patrick wanted to. They way he often had to rush off to the bathroom after they'd been kissing, the way he ran his hands over Bart's body at night, and the way he always forbad Bart to talk about them. He usually returned to that nervous, desperate, quivering wreck that had apologized so profusely to Bart whenever he was cruel to him, and needless to say, Bart's attraction to him had wavered considerably. He was becoming more and more unpredictable. He rarely spoke about his home life, and became even crueler in handing out punishments to younger boys. Three weeks before _that day_, Bart had come out with a rather short version of what he wanted to say, ignoring Patrick's threats;

"Bart. I told you. We DON'T talk about this!" Patrick snapped at him.

"Well I need to okay, man? All I'm telling you is that I'm not… not going back to your bed again. Since you seem so ashamed of it, you're obviously _not _gonna be upset about it! I'm sick of it… you don't even know what you want, do you?"

He would have continued. He _would _have told Patrick that he was often awake when he felt him up at nights. He _would _have told him that he thought he needed help.

But Patrick stormed out of the room.

And that was that. Or so Bart had thought.

For the three weeks leading up to _that day_ Bart had just continued on at Tornstone, getting ready for winter break. Tom, with whom he was still good friends and who Bart had never told about himself and Patrick had kept asking him whether he was okay or not. Although… actually he'd been doing that for a while. Bart kept replying that yes, he was fine.

Then Bart heard the rumor about Patrick;

"Apparently, Patrick's being sent to an asylum. You know a crazy house?" The way John said it, he almost seemed _gleeful. _

He didn't know what to do or say. He had suspected that Patrick had problems, but people didn't just get "sent away" anymore. Did they?

Suddenly, feeling a swell of compassion, and perhaps some guilt, Bart decided to confront Patrick about it.

Patrick and the other boys in his year who stayed on for college still slept in the same dorms as the year before, and that was where Bart found him; sat on his bed with his head in his hands;

"Patrick?"

Patrick didn't move.

Bart hesitated, and then shut the door behind him. He walked over to Patrick and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Slowly, Patrick looked up at Bart. He looked extremely tired, and his eyes were dull.

"Bart," he croaked.

"Is… is what they're saying true, dude?" Bart knew he had to careful.

"Probably," Patrick laughed a dry, empty laugh, and reached up and pulled Bart down onto his lap, burying his face into his neck.

"I hope it isn't… people can't just-…" Bart was cut off when Patrick kissed him suddenly, and quite forcefully.

Bart pulled away; "No, this isn't wha-…" Patrick kissed him hard again, this time maneuvering him round to push him back onto the bed and lie on top of him. He was greedy as he practically devoured Bart's small mouth and his teeth grazed his tongue. His hands were very ungraceful as they ran all over Bart's body, as though he didn't really want to feel Bart but it seemed like a good idea.

Once again, Bart broke the kiss, this time far less reluctantly, and held the taller boy's chest up unsteadily; "Patrick, I need t-…"

Patrick slapped him so quick and hard across the face it was like lightening, with the sound following moments after. Bart could taste blood.

"You make me do thi-…" Patrick began, but just then Bart punched him on the nose. Hard.

"You BASTARD!" cried Bart.

Patrick yelled, blood gushing from his nose, and Bart kicked him off the bed. Bart scrambled toward the door but soon felt Patrick's hand on his ankle. He crashed facedown onto the floor, and Patrick kicked his side, but not too hard, as if he'd hesitated. Bart grunted and tried to push himself up, but then felt Patrick's arms go around his waist, and he was clumsily lifted and carried further away from the door. Bart struggled and kicked, but not hard enough for Patrick to let go. Then, Bart felt the horrible sensation of being slammed down and bent roughly over the high wooden desk at the end of the room.

"Patrick, stop it!" he yelled, as the older boy pressed his weight down, his clothed erection rubbing against Bart's ass. Patrick gasped at the friction and one of his arms went around the smaller boy's neck. Bart felt sick; he needed air.

The taller boy randomly grabbed everywhere, pulling at Bart's shirt and pants, and Bart for one, fleeting moment had the feeling that Patrick, like himself had only an idea of what to do during sex.

Bart started to choke slightly, and the older boy's breathing started to become ragged as he attempted to undress his victim.

Still struggling underneath Patrick, Bart finally managed to free a hand and grab one of Patrick's, biting him hard, just as Patrick managed to pull Bart's pants and underwear all the way down.

Patrick screamed in pain, backing them both away from the desk but retaining a pinching grip on one of Bart's arms. Bart ran them both back against a wall, and _just _as the door opened and someone shouted, Patrick grunted and then finally released him; sliding down the paneled wall and onto the floor.

Bart felt someone's hand on his shoulder and instantly cried out and scrambled away.

It was Eddie, with John and Ron. The three of them were instantly all over Bart;

"Bart! God, are you okay?" "He didn't manage to…?" "I knew this would happen! I warned you guys!"

Then the three of them rounded on Patrick.

Sobbing, Bart pulled up his pants, glanced down at his attacker, then at himself in the mirror. Patrick was purple in the face with fat tears leaking out of his eyes which were squeezed shut against Eddie, Ron and John's shouts, and he still had an erection. Bart was deathly pale apart from his cheeks, his nose was running, mouth bleeding and he too was crying. The two of them weren't so beautiful anymore.

Bart's school shirt had been ripped open and was torn at the shoulder and the zipper on his pants was broken.

John came back to Bart and tried to take the shaking boy into his arms, but Bart pushed him roughly away.

"Just leave me alone! You should have just left all of us alone! CAN'T YOU WAIT FOR A FUCK UNTIL YOU GET HOME?" Bart screamed, not making much sense even to himself, and he got up and ran in fits of tears out of the door, getting one last glimpse of _The Scream _portrait just outside.

The train ride home was all a blur. He had a fleeting memory of some concerned looks at his bruised mouth and his torn shirt, and resting his head against the cold glass to help chase away the nausea.

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><p><strong>Hi, I don't know whether I should have warned that there's an attempted rape scene... but I figured it's rated M, and it is <strong>**attempted**** so... not sure. Say if you think I should.**

**Figured it would be better not to have Bart actually being raped. I know I've developed him as small and pretty, but he's hardly a damsel in distress, and he's also pretty tough. I also didn't want rape to be a ****reason**** for Bart and Bob to be together. XXX**


	6. Ch 6 Older Memories

**This chapter contains more stuff of allusions to a somewhat yucky nature. Nothing major but yeah.**

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><p>Bathed in moonlight, Bart Simpson lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. All of the beloved, sentimental, false promises that were his Krusty the Clown merchandise had, over time been sneaked out of his bedroom to either the attic or charity shops by his mother or to the garbage dump by his father.<p>

Despite Krusty's diminished influence in his life, Bart had found it difficult not to cry when he'd first walked in and switched on the light. This was the main reason why he now lay in semi-darkness. He'd known for a long time now that he'd need to get rid of most of the garish crap in his room, but he'd merely been prepared to return to familiarity, then slowly and gradually let go of his childhood fixation.

"See now honey, you can fill it with all your new stuff!" his mother had said when she'd told him earlier, "It'll take you forever to mess that room up again."

Bart snorted quietly to himself. He'd mess this room up faster than any of them would think possible. It was awful; the wide space of the floor made the ceiling seem lower, and the empty desk and bookshelf reminded him of his first few weeks at Tornstone.

The glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling were the only thing that remained the same, but even they couldn't help him pretend he was ten again, and that the last six years had never happened. His bed had been moved to the opposite side of the room, directly next to the window, so now his room didn't just look empty; it didn't look like his room at all.

Nevertheless, Bart knew it was far better he was here than at Tornstone School. He was _never _going back there again. This time he wouldn't allow his parents to show him "what a load of good that place has done for him". This time he wouldn't feel guilty at the thought of leaving the other boys behind.

In his mind Bart played back his years. But it was too confusing.

When he thought of life before the age of eleven it all plays in order. A brief, blurred memory of moving into their new house. Lisa appearing out of nowhere. Several repeats of "Why you little-…!" "BART!" "Put that down!" "Stop doing that!" And the rest of the happy, crazy randomness that had been his life.

But when he thought of life at Tornstone, it was disjointed and went backward.

The train ride. Running back through the corridors, past _The Scream _portrait, back into the room. Being bent over a desk. Telling Patrick it was over. Patrick staring. In bed with Patrick, his hands all over Bart. John's hands on him. Patrick telling him what they did was wrong; "You make me do this, Bart." Performances with Tom. Detentions. Principal Rowntree's shouts. His mother telling him he had to stay. Evans, the caretaker.

Bart felt a shudder run through his body. It had only been very recently that he'd started thinking about Evans again, and questioning the man's true intentions.

Evans had been caretaker for about two years prior to Bart coming to Tornstone. He could usually be seen outside, raking up leaves, mowing the lawn, shooting rabbits and laying down rat poison. Sometimes, he'd helped the gardeners trim the huge bushes that concealed the school from the rest of the world. He was a tall man with a lot of dark stubble and constantly sunburned skin, even in winter.

Despite Bart missing the presence of women in his life, he'd instantly found Evans intriguing. He was rugged and nearly always dirty; someone who wasn't tied down to school rules and Bart had needed something in his life that wasn't part of that place.

He shyly approached the man one lunch time during his first year. Evans had been clipping the bushes, and Bart just wanted something to do that _wasn't _extra study time.

"Hey, man can I have a go with those shears?"

Evans didn't turn around but said; "Sure you wouldn't rather be studying, kid?"

"No way, man. Studying is for sissies," Bart said indignantly.

"Look kid…" Evans started, before he turned around and looked at the twelve-year-old. At first he stared. Then he laughed.

Bart frowned; "What?"

"You look like you'd fall over if I gave these to ya." He waved the shears slightly.

That was pretty much all of that memory that Bart could remember. But he knew what happened over the course of the next two years. Occasionally he'd help Evans out with a few chores. It was far better than helping the twelfth grade. Besides which, Evans _spoke_ to him. He told him all about how he'd misbehaved and shoplifted as a child. Bart told him about the time he'd stolen that game, and his family had pretty much shunned him until he made it up to them;

"I'll never do that again," he said sadly.

Evans had stared down at him; "'you miss your family?"

"No," Bart lied, stubbornly.

"Hah, you're lying, boy." Evans stroked his spiky hair. He froze.

"What's up?" said Bart.

Evans quickly removed his hand; "Nothin', just I expected your hair to be rough." He paused, staring into Bart's huge blue eyes. "We should get you out of this sun; you're so fair."

_That _was it. _That _was what Patrick had reminded him of. _That_ was the first time Bart had remembered Evans for a while, and had suspected that he... So why had he realized through _that_, and not the kiss?

For a while, Bart and Evans had formed a sort of friendship. They laughed about all the pranks they'd pulled on people, and then how miserable sometimes they'd been.

He remembered some days Evans had ran at him, picked him up and spun around with him. He remembered Evans taking a photograph of him by a rosebush. He remembered his English teacher questioning him; "Why do you hang around with that man so much, Simpson? What do you do with him?"

_"Are you okay, Bart? You're hanging around with Patrick… well, _a lot._"_

He had a copy of that photo by the rosebush somewhere. He didn't want to think about the original.

He remembered the day Evans left. He didn't remember what led up to it, but he just recalled Evans' hands on his shoulders; a wistful look in his eyes;

"Bart, I have to go. Won't say where, but I always knew this would happen. Still. I didn't do what I wanted to. That's the important thing. Take care of yourself."

And then he'd kissed Bart full on the lips. Bart had been too taken aback to say anything, but after Evans had turned away, he remembered wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

How the hell could he not have guessed back then?

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><p><strong>I live to torture my fanfic subjects. And the lovely Sideshow Bob isn't even here yet.<strong>


	7. Ch 7 Home

**And now Bart comes home. The reason I gave him another little sister is because I wanted to have loads of things for Bart to have missed out on, like her birth. I also kind of believe he's doomed to be surrounded by a family of girls, but I think he quite likes it really. :D**

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><p>Now Bart was home, for good.<p>

He'd been in so much distress after his encounter with Patrick that he'd made up his mind to leave there and then. He'd collected a few of his things together in a hurry, ran off of the school premises to the train station, and waited about an hour for a train to Springfield to appear.

During this time, the school had contacted his family, saying that he'd gone missing after a fight with an older boy. Eddie, Ron or John must have said something.

When Bart reached Springfield he'd caught a cab to his house, eyeing the concerned, balding driver with suspicion all the way. The poor guy had just said; "Look kid, you need help." And Bart had snapped "What would you know about it?"

Bart had expected to be slapped and shrieked at when he arrived at his house. It must have been a lingering paranoia from the attack, because he knew his mother wasn't the type to do that. Instead, when the front door opened, there was a sob, and then his mother grabbed him and hugged him hard. Then, there were more arms; his sister's, Lisa and Maggie, then Josie's squealing from the kitchen.

Bart burst into tears.

"Oh sweetie! Look at you! What did that boy do to you?" His mother shut the door behind him, led him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

"I-I'm okay… s'just… I'm tired," he sniveled into his hands.

"We've been so worried about you! You should have phoned us!" Lisa was teary-eyed as well, but was trying to be rational.

"Bah-Bah!" shrieked Josie from her highchair, knocking her doll to the floor.

"I know! I'm so sorry! I just. I HAD to get away from there!"

"Oh, my poor baby," Marge grabbed a jacket from the coat hanger by the door and put it around his shoulders "you're freezing!"

"Mom," said Bart, his voice suddenly very low and controlled.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I am NOT going back to Tornstone. I don't care what you say this time. I have learned whatever lesson this stupid town wanted me to learn… if you send me back there again…" he trailed away, leaving the threat unspoken.

"No. No you're right. You've been there long enough. But we'll need to talk about this… later. Your father will be home soon. You need a bath… and you need to treat that lip." She stood and went upstairs.

Bart hadn't noticed Maggie disappear, but did notice her return with some antiseptic wipes.

"Thanks Mags," croaked Bart, "Come here." He pulled her into a hug. He smiled; "You look after me so well. You should have been my _big _sister, and Lisa… even Josie. I don't exactly set good examples, do I?"

"That place was never right for you," said Lisa, ruffling his hair as she walked past, "I haven't seen you smile properly in ages."

"Don't be stupid, Bart. You're a _great_ role model… we just… learn from your mistakes," Maggie said, kindly.

"Really though, man," he said (she had no problem with this term of endearment) "I don't know how I've survived without all of you."

"You can survive anything, Bart," Maggie kissed his forehead then retrieved Josie's doll from the floor and stood up to give it back to her, "it's just a question of your happiness."

Bart smiled. Maggie was so articulate when it came to expressing herself. She was brilliant at language and literature, but knew she struggled at most subjects;

"Don't give up on your English though, Mags," he'd said once, "That's something that'll get you places. All I have is toilet humor."

Although now he'd proven to be reasonably articulate through Bessie.

Josie, in contrast to Maggie was a loud baby. She chattered away all the time, and was a severe girly-girl. She refused to wear pants, always dresses, and any hair ties _had _to match. Her hair was, like her siblings, blonde, but she was all curls like Marge, instead of her sisters 80's buoyancy, or her brother's spikes or her father's... nothing.

She'd been another accident, but a pleasant one. Even Homer hadn't been able to resist cuddling her to pieces when she was first born. Although like Bart and Lisa, she'd first begun addressing him as "Homer" instead of "daddy".

Bart had missed all the girls so much. None of them were taller than him; both Marge and Lisa were around his height. It was nice to be able to speak face to face in the fullest sense of the term.

Maggie readjusted the blue ribbon she still wore in her hair, brushed down her dungarees and went back to doing some homework.

Lisa dried off the last of the dishes in the sink and then seemed to realize something. "Bart, you've only got a little bag there, where's all the rest of your stuff?"

Bart rubbed his eyes; "Uh… I kinda left it there."

"So you don't have any clothes?"

"…No. Just my money and keys."

"I s'pose you could _try _to wear those," said Maggie, smiling.

"Well in that case," Lisa smiled and went upstairs, then returned with a bag. "I know it's not Christmas yet," she said, handing the bag to him, "But you're gonna need these. Your clothes are way too small anyway."

"I love you. So much," said Bart, as he pulled out two red shirts, a pair of jeans and a grey jacket.

"People tend to," Lisa nodded in exaggeration.

Bart laughed.

After a long bath, during which his mother rung everyone to say that Bart was fine and that he was quitting Tornstone, Bart lay on his bed. He remembered a line from the book _The Handmaid's Tale _that he'd once had to study; "_Nothing takes place in the bed but sleep; or no sleep."_

At the time, he'd found the book too depressing and difficult to get through, but with what he'd been through he could write a good seven pages on it. He knew he'd never actually had sex in the fullest sense of the term with either gender, and hadn't suffered nearly as much as some people but still, the quote felt… recognizable to him. A bed. Just for him. No one else had any access to it. It was just for sleeping, not for a good feel-up session or a single, illicit sexual encounter. No one had "rights" to him.

But still, an odd feeling of guilt welled up inside him.

He should have just pushed Patrick away when it first started. It was clear the older boy had a delicate mind that was also unstable and he should have just gently told him he wasn't gay.

Even though he really, really was.

And now… he'd be back at Springfield Elementary, with all his determinately 'not-gay' classmates.

No.

_Not _Springfield Elementary.

Springfield High.

"Oh God," whispered Bart, bringing his hands to his face. And he'd been so ready to go back to something familiar.

It would be starting something new and awkward all over again. He hoped Milhouse would still hang out with him. He hoped that because Tornstone was practically unheard of, no one would think him snobbish.

Bart heard the sound of breaking glass and a belch that marked his father's arrival, so rolled over and sat up. Once he was downstairs, he found Homer in the lounge.

"Hey Homer," he said, quietly.

"Hello so-… Hey, you're short!"

"And you're fat, dad."

"Why _thank_-… WHY YOU LITTLE!"

Marge called from the kitchen; "Don't you dare, Homer! He was beaten up today!"

Homer's hands, which were outstretched, dropped, and he sat back on the couch.

"Beaten up? Who beat you up?" he said, indignantly.

"Just… this guy," said Bart, nervously, bringing his hands down from his defensive position.

Homer nodded, as though that answered everything; "And what did you do afterward?"

Bart blushed; "I ran."

"That's my boy," said Homer, and reached up to hug him.


	8. Ch 8 Boys

**I must apologize for the lack of Sideshow Bob at the moment. Rest assured, he will appear quite soon! XX**

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><p>A week later, Bart found himself watching <em>The Krusty the Klown Show<em> with Josie by his feet and Maggie sat cross-legged next to him on the couch slurping milkshake from a straw.

Bart had known for a long time that Sideshow Bob had managed to sneak his way back into show business without the police attempting to put him back in jail, but nevertheless he felt… _betrayed. _Not by the police or the rest of Springfield, but by Krusty.

Of course, he knew that he and Bob had reconciled, but it was just… how many times had Krusty screwed up?

A LOT.

How many times had Bob caused problems for the two of them?

A LOT.

And… well they could reconcile if they really wanted to… but giving Bob his entire career back?

Could you give me back my _life_?

"What y'say?" said Maggie, chewing ungracefully on her straw.

"Nothin'," said Bart, quickly. Had he said that out loud?

He wondered what Bob's thoughts on him were now. Murder? Hate? Smugness? For he had, perhaps unintentionally sent Bart to Tornstone. Indirectly, of course. But you never know… maybe he'd secretly recommended the school to the mayor. It was a thought.

Or maybe, Bob didn't think about Bart at all. It _had_ been a while. The last time he'd seen Bob, the man had tried to cremate him alive, leaving him with a thin, now almost unnoticeable burn scar along his right arm that had been exposed to the intense heat. The memory made Bart feel slightly sick. For a while after the incident, Bart had suffered terrible nightmares because of it. These days Bart's nightmares were usually focused on… other things.

But the last time _Lisa _had seen the man; when he'd been their prime suspect for kidnapping their father, he'd tried nothing. Bart had been excused the weekend off school to witness their parent's second legal marriage, but had had to return straight after the service, so missed the mysterious disappearance of their father, so never saw Bob _and_ missed the actual marriage once his father was found. The man was innocent, for once. Well, twice. His brother had been the one who tried to blow up the dam. _Possibly _thrice; he had once claimed he was "incapable" of killing Bart. Except, once again it seemed he might not be.

_Twice it is._

Bart's current thoughts on the man right now were, well… unexpected. But then, Bart supposed he _was _a teenage boy, and he _was _gay. And well… the man was incredibly handsome. He didn't think he'd noticed before… he would've been too scared. How could a man pull off those crazy dreadlocks and still look sophisticated? Well… perhaps because he no longer wore the grass skirt.

_Pity really…_

But the threat of those piercing grey eyes, and the bizarre, nightmarish shadow the man cast prevented Bart from looking too much into Bob's good-looks.

Bob had been given almost half the show. Bart was amazed Krusty let him. But now they seemed to really enjoy working together.

He felt rather sorry for Sideshow Mel, who now had to endure abuse from both of them. He didn't look too bothered at the moment, but Bart once wondered whether he and Krusty had ever had a… _different _kind of attachment as apposed to just comedy partners. They certainly weren't the former _or_ latter, now. Bob was back.

When Mel, after having his butt kicked for the seventh time, (this time by Bob) shot Krusty a look that could've been either pleading, longing or betrayal, Bart had the peculiar urge to say, "I know how you feel."

Krusty and Bob had also produced a show for adults, and it was apparently doing very well. Bart wasn't sure if he could watch that though. He felt deceived enough watching this show, but felt he should spend some sort of time with his two youngest sisters.

"Bart," said Marge, having just walked in "I really think you should get out of the house, you know. I mean, I don't think you ever got out even when you had your other vacations. Or… at least invite someone round. Why don't you ring Milhouse?"

"Milhouse… yeah," said Bart.

"So you're never going back to that place? You're here for good?" said Milhouse, his eyes hopeful behind the red frames of his glasses.

"Yup," said Bart, paying Apu for his candy then turning to leave the Kwik-E-Mart.

"Thank you, come again." Said Apu, tiredly, who seemed very distracted and didn't recognize Bart.

Everything in Springfield was the same. Same people, same cars, houses, shops… Bart hadn't been to the Kwik-E-Mart for years, but it felt like only yesterday he was there last.

Milhouse hadn't changed much over the years. He was still awkward and kind of dippy and still seemed to look up to Bart. Not physically of course, for he was now about four inches taller than his spiky-haired friend and seemed quite pleased about it.

"…So why did you and this guy fight?" Milhouse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

Bart's mouth went rather dry; "Uh… well we never really got on so well. He was kinda stuck-up, y'know?"

"What did he say?"

"You know… I'd rather not talk about it," said Bart, biting into his candy bar, "I'm never goin' back there, it's not important anymore."

Milhouse nodded awkwardly and Bart felt a little bad for making him so uncomfortable. His mother kept pestering him about the "incident" at school, too. He had begun to get the feeling she was aware there was more to the situation than he was letting on. He'd stuffed his school pants with the broken zipper at the back of his closet with the intention of throwing them out when he couldn't be caught, and made sure no one was around when he was changing in case they saw the line of bruising at his abdomen where he'd been bent over the desk, or the hand-shaped marks on his shoulders and hips.

Virtually everyone who knew Bart before he went to Tornstone had a mental picture of what they thought he'd look like when he came back. And everyone's mental picture had basically been a blonde Homer Simpson with a prematurely receding hairline and beer belly.

This was the main reason why Bart felt like he'd walked into a western instead of through the Springfield High front doors at the beginning of the semester.

Several familiar faces stopped and stared. One boy dropped the can of buzz cola he was about to put in his locker, and it burst open and fizzed all over the floor.

"Oh no! My juicy pop!" squeaked the chubby young man, and Bart realized who he was: Ralph Wiggum.

As he proceeded through the hall with Lisa, more people eyed the newcomer with interest. Bart just managed to prevent a blush from spreading when a couple of girls giggled; Sherri and Terri.

When Bart was finally sat in a lesson and the teacher called his name on the register, some of the other students started to whisper to each other;

"Oh my God! I thought I recognized him!"

"What happened to him?"

"Where'd he go?"

Bart was just grateful that he had remained in the same class as Milhouse, for the meek, spectacled boy was the only person incapable of making him feel at all intimidated.

His mistrust of other boys fluctuated between quite uncommon panic attacks and small bouts of wariness. He was calm in his classes because they were all around the same age here; no older ones to give out chores.

Bart's friendship groups were very similar to the ones he'd always had; mismatched and misunderstood. He preferred to stay out of people's way, at least for now. He stuck with Milhouse, who stuck with Ralph Wiggum and the two of them hung out with, or were beaten up by Nelson Muntz. Bart didn't see Nelson much during the first couple of weeks. The broad, muscular, handsome boy he'd turned out to be towered over Bart, Ralph and Milhouse. He was said to have been on various courses throughout the last couple of years, having considered dropping out of school at fifteen;

"But I ain't riskin' it. Not after how my mom turned out," said Nelson, cigarette between his fingers.

Bart, trying not to blush and giggle like a school girl, or run away crying for the sake of his adult teeth, nodded and said "I gotta admit I always kinda assumed you'd leave as soon as you could. It was my plan, too."

Nelson raised a pierced eyebrow; "So how come you came here?"

Bart shifted uncomfortably; "My plan never really went further than leaving school. I just assumed somethin' would come up."

"And nothin' did, huh?"

Bart briefly considered mentioning Bessie, and then decided against it. "'Guess not."

Nelson snorted, then thwacked Ralph across the head, who'd stuck two cigarettes in his ears; "Dude, those cost money y'know?"

It seemed that Nelson, despite voicing contempt for almost everything and anything over the years, was still lonely. Bart couldn't really think of any other reason why he'd openly hang out with Ralph and Milhouse. Sure, they were his friends, but they were also renowned losers, no matter how fond he was of them.

Later, Milhouse and Bart were in Bart's bedroom writing up their latest English report;

"Milhouse, what's the deal with Nelson? I mean, he just seems to float into the picture whenever he feels like it and-…"

Milhouse laughed, knowingly; "It's pretty much all the same, Bart. He still picks on people yet isn't really popular. He still thinks me and Ralph are losers yet hangs out with us. He's usually still with Jimbo Jones and Dolph… Kearney left a while ago. We try not to get on his bad side… he's got pretty heavy fists. …Still."

Bart pulled out his latest letter to Tom and began to finish it.

"Who's _Tom_?" asked Milhouse, leaning over to have a look.

"One of my friends at Tornstone," said Bart casually.

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with that place anymore."

"I don't… but he's still one of my best friends. He hates it there, too."

"Why don't you text him? Or call him?"

"No phones allowed at Tornstone… there's one at reception for emergencies."

Milhouse grunted; "I'll warn you now Bart, Nelson kinda has these on and off weeks… sometimes it's like he really wants to be best friends with me and Ralph, and he gets really weird about stuff."

Bart frowned; "You mean jealous? Like he did when me and him were best friends that week?" The memory of Nelson rescuing him made his heartbeat falter.

Milhouse stood and walked over to the window; "Kinda… what I mean is… um, well Bart that letter sounds almost… gay. The one you're writing… and Nelson doesn't like anything even a lit-…"

"It's not gay!"

"I know! I know! But… be careful. He really hates anything even a little… well you know." He stared out of the window for a bit, whilst Bart dubiously went back to his writing.

"Bart, there's someone hanging around outside… staring right at me," Milhouse said very quietly, as though he was trying to disguise his lips moving.

Bart joined him and peered out. He was right; outside in the darkness, across the road stood someone tall in a long beige coat, and a hat that was tilted down over their eyes, which glinted in his direction. He obviously intended to be seen, whoever he was.

"Who's that?" said Milhouse.

"I… I don't know."

"Is he looking at me or you?"

"Not sure… it could be both of us. I mean… this is my house, but… have you pissed anyone off recently?" Bart looked at Milhouse, who frowned;

"No, actually," he said, defensively.

The two of them looked back into the street… only to find it was empty apart from a ginger cat which looked up at them scathingly.

There was a shiver in the air.

"…Would you mind if you stayed over tonight?"

"Sure."


	9. Ch 9 Krusty and Terwilliger

Two days later, Bart, Nelson and Milhouse were sat outside the Kwik-E-Mart. Milhouse, for some reason had taken up smoking along with Nelson. Either he did it to look cool or Nelson forced him to. When he offered Bart one, the blonde shook his head.

"Come on, Simpson, it's just one cigarette," Nelson attempted to push his own lit one between Bart's lips.

Bart pushed his hands away carefully; "I just don't want one, thanks."

"Aw, you're such a goody-goody, Bart," laughed Milhouse, exhaling smoke as he did. Nelson leaned over and thumped him;

"Sorry! I meant he's such a …wuss?"

Nelson grunted; "A little better… but only a little." He thumped Milhouse again; "I would have accepted 'fucking wuss'."

He raised his hand again to scratch his ear and noticed Bart flinch. His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something when a squeaky, cheery voice piped up;

"Smoking causes bad breath, premature aging and death!"

"Hi, Ralph," they all chorused.

Ralph paused, a look of unease in his chubby face and then said; "There's a man staring at us."

The three of them looked round. Sure enough, the same beige coated man stood under a tree in the distance, just staring.

"He wants to hurt us!" declared Ralph.

"It's okay, Ralph. He's after me, not you," said Bart.

"What? Are you sure?" Milhouse looked uncertain.

"Yeah. He came back last night. And the night before."

Nelson looked at them; "Came back? You mean you two saw him before?"

"Uh-huh, he was there three nights ago when Milhouse stayed over."

"Why didn't I hear about this sleepover?" Nelson threw his half-finished cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot, not looking at any of them.

"Oh it wasn't a planned thing, Bart was scared so I said I'd stay with him," said Milhouse.

"What? Oh come on, you were shit-scared, Milhouse!" Bart said irritably.

"You're all a bunch of girls! You're guys for fuck's sake-…" Nelson was interrupted by Bart;

"You just said we were a bunch of girls."

"Shut up! What I meant was you should be able to take care of yourselves… you know what, I'm gonna go straight up to that guy and ask what the fuck he wants." Nelson stood up, then stopped; "Hey, he's gone!"

Bart nodded; "He does that… waits until you look away then runs."

"Who is he?" asked Milhouse.

"I really don't know! The only person I can think of is Sideshow Bob… but this isn't really his game and I'm not sure if I'm on his hit-list," Bart said, miserably.

"Have you told anyone about this guy?" asked Nelson.

"Yeah, I told my dad… he's thinks I'm imagining it. I warned my mom and sisters to look after themselves… I think my mom's gonna report him to the school."

"Hey, isn't Sideshow Bob just called Terwilliger, now?" said Milhouse.

"Uh… yeah I think so."

"He and Krusty are coming to our school… you know for the work experience week? Maybe we could ask him if he still wants to kill you."

Bart's heart leapt; "I… really don't think that's a good idea… I was gonna miss school that day…"

"Wimp. You're scared a'him," Nelson lit another cigarette.

"Maybe I have a good reason to be," said Bart, glaring daggers at the large young man.

Nelson laughed and mocked him; "Why Simpson, you're cute when you're angry!" He ruffled Bart's hair.

_Aw, isn't he cute?_

Bart swallowed; "No… it's just I think I should just keep away from him. Either he will try to kill me… or I'll give him a reason to. Anyway… if I'm at home and this guy doesn't show up, then we'll know it's him!"

Nelson blew smoke into his face, making him cough; "And what if this guy _does _show up, and you're alone in the house?"

"My dad's car smells like shoes," said Ralph.

Three weeks later Bart found himself in the school hall, sat between Milhouse and Nelson, watching Krusty the clown and Sideshow Bob. Or rather, _Krusty and Terwilliger_ as their adult act were now known. Finally Bart was watching the act he'd vowed not to watch… and it was also live. Krusty and Bob had chosen to perform for the school before answering any questions on show business, and they were very, very good.

But it was obvious that because of their youthful audience they'd had to clean it up a little. Bart had been far ruder when he'd been performing as Bessie, and perhaps, a little better. But he wasn't sure whether he'd get away with it here.

Every now and then there would be movement from outside; the police. Of course everyone assumed it was to protect Krusty and Bob… but Bart knew it was for his safety. His mother and father had contacted the police after witnessing the stalker themselves. When they'd voiced the possibility of it being Bob, Chief Wiggum had snorted;

"There's no way. Terwilliger's with Krusty all the time, either performing, writing or partying. He doesn't even know Bart's back."

But he had agreed to keep an eye out around the school. All visitors had to sign in before entering, and the students were told to take extra care whilst walking home.

Bart was just glad he was seated at the back of the hall, where it would be harder for Bob to recognize him or catch his eye. Bob still looked exactly the same. The boy wondered how much _he'd_ changed… well he was taller and thinner, for one thing.

_And prettier._

He didn't want Bob to know he was back… he'd rather most people didn't, to be honest. The more people that knew he was back meant that there would be more questions; why had he come back? Had he matured? Was he sorry? Was he even worse?

Bart slumped as low in his seat as he could without looking strange, and kept his eyes off the stage. He was convinced that if he looked up, Bob would catch his eye and realize who he was. But looking down didn't keep Bart shielded from Bob's voice. As the man performed, he was usually putting on an exaggerated Texan accent, but occasionally he'd break character, and that silky smooth voice would echo throughout the entire room.

Bart shivered.

Nelson glanced at him with a mixture of annoyance, questioning… and knowing.

After the performance the questions began, but most of the kids just wanted autographs.

"Come on, Bart!" said Milhouse, and he and Ralph ran toward the stage with the others.

Bart backed away from the crowd, turned and came face to face with Nelson's chest.

"Where you goin' Simpson?" grunted Nelson, staring down at him.

"For a walk," said Bart, truthfully.

"…I'll come with ya. This blows."

The two of them sidestepped a group of teachers who were also hoping for signed photos, and sneaked into the corridor. Nelson, walking behind Bart suddenly felt very heavy-footed compared to the little blonde who expertly tiptoed without making a sound. Not that the kid needed to; Nelson would give them away easily if there was anyone around, but there wasn't.

Outside, it seemed that the police had spotted the stalker, for they had all suddenly rushed off. It was quiet.

"This guy… what does he want with you?" said Nelson, once the two of them were sat under a large tree that shielded them from the rest of the school.

"I still don't know… I _can't_ know without knowing who he is," said Bart, quietly. It was very strange being alone with Nelson. He was still unsure whether the guy even _liked _him, for he seemed to think he was pathetic.

"So. What's your problem with Terwilliger?" Nelson interrupted Bart's thoughts.

Bart laughed; "Are you crazy? The whole town was talking about us before I left!"

Nelson shoved him slightly; "Don't call me crazy you little tit!" He hesitated, then continued; "To be honest, Bart, this town kinda forgot about you pretty quickly."

Bart felt a small pang of hurt somewhere inside him; "You as well?"

Nelson looked rather uncomfortable; "Well, I didn't think about you much, but I still remembered you. School was quiet… when you left."

Bart nodded slightly, and then looked toward the car park opposite them, where a black limo sat parked, guarded by the driver who was leant against it, reading a newspaper.

"That must be Krusty and Terwilliger's car," said Nelson, noticing where Bart was staring.

"Do they… live together?" asked Bart, trying to ignore a small twinge of disgust at the thought.

Nelson's face twisted into a look of anger; "Why do you care? What's it to ya?" he snapped.

Bart leant away from him slightly; "Hey, I'm just curious! I haven't been around for a while."

"Yeah well you shouldn't be curious about that sort of thing. I've been watching you these past few weeks, Simpson, and I reckon you know _exactly _who's stalkin' ya, and you know why." Nelson's voice had lowered to a dangerous level, and he leant in, his face very close.

Bart's temper flared slightly; "You've been _watching _me? So you think you know me do you? Well that's interesting, 'cause I don't remember you keeping in touch when I was away!"

Nelson snorted; "Why the hell should I have done?"

"We were pretty good friends before I left, don't you remember?"

"Look Simpson, I told you that that week was just-…"

"I'm not talking about that! You started hanging with me and Milhouse, remember? Remember when that kid Donny came to our school? You helped me catch him, and then when Skinner and Chalmers caught us YOU ran. I nearly got sent to a detention center… thought I got out of that one… then after Bob turned up again, it turned out they had this scholarship for Tornstone." Bart's rant had caused Nelson to back off slightly.

"…You got sent there, didn't you?"

Bart looked up at Nelson. The boy was frowning slightly.

"Well… yeah. You didn't know?"

Nelson shook his head; "No. Skinner said you'd chosen to go away… and your mom… when Milhouse asked her… said she was all excited about how good this place you'd gone to was. What kind of school was it?"

"One for 'problem' boys," Bart said, bitterly.

"What was it like?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Why the hell not?"

Bart stood up; "Because I don't, okay?"

He walked off, and Nelson stood. As Bart continued walking, he heard the sound of smashing glass, someone yelling and then Nelson raced past him, nearly knocking him over. Turning around, Bart then was actually knocked down by the driver off the limo, and that was when he realized; Nelson had thrown something through the windshield of the expensive car, and the driver was chasing after him as fast as he could.

Bart grumbled and picked himself up, brushed his clothes down and then walked back toward the school, hoping to hide himself in the bathrooms. He did not see Sideshow Mel watching him thoughtfully.

Mel, despite not being a key part of _Krusty and Terwilliger_, still remained in many of their sketches, though no-one at the school had asked him for an autograph. Feeling more downhearted by the second, he'd decided to go back to the limo, which he was luckily still allowed to ride in. On his way, he instantly recognized Bart Simpson, for he was far more intuitive than Krusty, who easily forgot his once self-proclaimed "number one fan". He decided not to mention anything about the boy at all. Krusty wouldn't care and he never spoke to Terwilliger as they hated each other.


	10. Ch 10 Male Aggression Part One

**Get ready for exciting appearance of someone exciting. Male Aggression: Part 1**

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><p>Josie Simpson shared a March birthday with two other kids. Both were older than she was, but all their parents were friends, and so it was becoming a tradition that the three children also shared a birthday party. Josie, now about to turn two, was tottering about everywhere, and despite not being able to say proper words, was the loudest member of the Simpson household. This was saying something, considering the two male Simpsons, and Lisa's saxophone practice.<p>

Despite being a little sleep-deprived, Bart found the sound of Josie's clattering, stomping and nonsense-chattering extremely comforting. It reminded him of a simpler time in his own life, he supposed. She wasn't at all shy like Maggie; warming to Bart the instant he came home, though she'd hardly known him for the first year and ten months of her life.

When her birthday came around, Bart was feeling much better. The man who followed him had been appearing far less frequently, and he hadn't seen him at all for the last three weeks. He was all set to be the perfect big brother. He'd bought Josie a new doll and dress, and was going to help his mother prepare the party. He was going to be there throughout the whole thing; maybe he'd do some impressions for her, or sit with her to play. However, when Marge announced that Krusty the clown, Terwilliger and Sideshow Mel would be around to perform, Bart's attitude suddenly changed. He told his mother he'd be there for the early morning, and then would be leaving at eleven.

"But you'll miss most of the birthday party!" said Marge, clutching at a cake catalogue.

"I'll be there for the first hour… besides, it's not Jo's _actual_ birthday on Saturday," Bart said, feeling like a complete prick.

"You'll miss the show!"

"Well you know mom, that is a _darn _shame, but I _really_ do have an important project to work on with a… friend."

"Bart, it cost _a lot_ to get Krusty to come along an-…"

"Mom, I'll help you and the others put up all the decorations, then afterward I'll help clean up, too."

"It's not _that_…"

"Look I really gotta go work on this!"

"I just don't see why you and your friend can't work here."

"Well we won't exactly be able to concentrate, will we?"

"You're not _still_ scared of Sidesho-…"

"No! I just think it's better that I never see him again."

"_Please_, Bart. It's your baby sister's birthday party! You already missed her first one!"

"Whose fault is that?"

Bart pretended he didn't see the wounded look in his mother's face as he stormed out of the house. When he returned that evening, he silently apologized to her by washing up the dishes after dinner, then pinning up the paper balloon decorations all over the living room, and vacuuming the carpet.

The next day, he gave Josie her presents along with his parent's and other sisters, put up more decorations, and fastened some balloons outside the front door, then left to meet Nelson and Milhouse. Ralph would be staying for the party.

In spite of Bart's lingering guilt, it was a great day. First the three of them went to the movies to see the biggest yet crappiest action movie of all time. It was great entertainment, however.

After the movie they went to hang around the Kwik-E-Mart to play on the arcade games that still remained. Nelson was in a far better mood than usual, and was oddly playful and jokey. At some point, he spotted Jimbo Jones and Dolph, and went to talk to them. Bart was about to join him, but Milhouse caught his arm and shook his head;

"No, don't. They'll beat you up – even Nelson."

Bart frowned; "Don't you ever get mad about this?" he whispered.

"…What?"

"The way he only wants to be our friend when it suits him."

"Look, it's something you get used to eventually… and you know, this way we get beat up way less than other people. And you have to admit, he _is _a cool guy."

"…I guess."

"Hey, dinks!" Yelled Nelson.

Bart and Milhouse looked up. Nelson still called them "dinks" despite Milhouse being only three inches shorter than him.

Bart let out a yelp of surprise when Nelson stomped toward him and picked him up. The small boy felt the world nearly turn upside down when Nelson put him over his shoulder;

"C'mon, Milhouse, we're gettin' fries!" crowed Nelson, and then marched out of the store, carrying the blonde as though he were light as a doll.

Milhouse, Dolph and Jimbo followed them, jeering at the spectacle. Bart laughed, clutched at Nelson's vest and hoped he wasn't blushing. This was just so unlike Nelson. He ignored the nagging feeling in his gut that this was just to put him in his place as the younger, smaller, more unknown member of their group. When he lifted his head he spotted Jimbo and Dolph giving Milhouse occasional pokes and shoves, but it all seemed reasonably friendly. It made his neck ache, however, so he dropped it down again to stare at Nelson's back; his face bumping against it with each of the larger boy's strides.

Much later, a slightly tipsy Bart found himself once again over Nelson's shoulder, only this time he was facing forwards, belly down. He laughed and desperately hoped Nelson wouldn't drop him face-first onto the floor. He'd invited the taller boy to stay over at his house earlier that day, and somehow Nelson had remained in his good mood, though he had drunk quite a lot more than his younger friend.

Nelson carried him in this ridiculous manner all the way up Evergreen Terrace, and when they got to Bart's house, the smaller boy clumsily retrieved his keys from his pants and handed them to Nelson, who unlocked the door and walked in, Bart still giggling over his shoulder.

"Simpson, you giggle like a…" Nelson started, as he walked into the kitchen but suddenly stopped.

Wondering what had silenced him; Bart lifted his head slowly, and gasped.

Elegantly sat at the kitchen table, a glass of wine in one hand, and the other holding a newspaper was none other than Sideshow Bob. With one eyebrow raised, he observed the two boys with a kind of indifference, as though he wouldn't have been any more surprised had they swung in through the window on a rope. He slowly reached up and removed his glasses, to take in his old nemesis's changes. His piercing, steel grey eyes seemed to see right into Bart's soul, and for about two seconds the young man could think of nothing else.

Then Nelson leant back, allowing Bart's feet to come into contact with the floor, and concealing him somewhat from Bob's gaze so that he had to peer around his friend's arm.

"Hello, Bart," said Bob, and he leant his head back slightly, eyeing the boy with interest.

Bart opened his mouth a little, and then looked around the kitchen, as though the reason to the man's presence would be written there somewhere.

"You're Bob Terwilliger; what the hell you doin' here?" Nelson broke the silence, gruffly.

Bob's eyes, which had been concentrating on Bart since he and Nelson had entered, suddenly travelled to Nelson. "Well, Krusty and I were actually here to provide entertainment for the youngest Simpson's birthday par-…"

Nelson cut across him; "Yeah, we got that. I mean why're ya _still_ here?"

Bob winced at the young man's speech, and when he continued to speak, his grey eyes lingered on Nelson's tatty clothes and his pierced eyebrow in disgust; "I'm sorry, and your name is?"

"Nelso-…"

"Fascinating," said Bob, completely uninterested; "As to your other question, I don't think it's really your business."

Bart, who found himself completely speechless, stood by in apprehension as the two men sized each other up. He felt like a complete idiot; stood there staring at his hands, his cheeks getting pinker and hotter every minute.

"Well yeah, but it's _Bart's_ business. It's _his _house. Haw-haw!"

"Actually this is his parents' house, who incidentally were the ones who asked me to stay, and since Bart doesn't seem capable of asking me himself, I shan't give him an answer until he can."

"Look, pal…"

"Oh Bart, you're back! And Nelson, how are you?" cried Marge from the doorway. She was all smiles, save for the split second when she saw the accusative glare her son was giving her.

"Hey Mrs. Simpson, I'm cool, and you?" said Nelson, bowing his head a little in respect.

"I'm well," she smiled, then turned to Bob; "Mr. Terwilliger, I was wondering if you could come into the lounge…" she gave him a meaningful look; he was clearly supposed to know what this was about.

Bart leant away slightly when Bob got up from the table and walked into the lounge. He was about to turn to Nelson when his mother stopped him;

"Bart, you come here too. And Nelson, though it may be a little awkward."

Still trying to keep behind Nelson slightly, Bart followed him into the lounge and the two of them sat on the couch, while Bob sneered at them from an armchair.

"Would you like some more wine, Bob?" Offered Marge.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," said Bob, smoothly.

Nelson snickered and Bob shot him a nasty look.

"Nelson?" said Marge "Would you like a drink?"

"Beer, thanks."

"…Bart?"

Bart bit his lip and shook his head. He was too afraid to look at anyone, and he still couldn't bring himself to say anything. He hadn't even been able to get "AH! SIDESHOW BOB!" out of his mouth. His heart was beating much faster than usual, and his hands were clasped in his lap to stop them from shaking. He was also very aware that Bob was watching him closely.

Bart never thought he'd ever think this, but he sort of wished that his father would walk in drunk; maybe smash a vase or drop his pants whilst singing. At least the silence would be broken. And Bob's gaze wouldn't be scolding his flesh.

"So how're things at the circus?" said Nelson, finally breaking the silence. He was smirking at Bob's wild dreadlocks.

Bob raised an eyebrow; "Things are fine in _television_. Surely even you know where I work." He sneered at Nelson's scuffed up boots, then muttered, almost inaudibly: "Mind you, I was just going to ask you the same thing."

"What was that?"

As the male aggression in the room continued to rise, Bart found himself staring at his feet. Then he looked at Nelson's, and then at Bob's. Bob's feet were not at all goofy-looking in proper shoes… but they were still very, very large.

_Well, you know what they say._

Bart looked away quickly and desperately tried to fight off a blush. This was just way too much.

"Why are you here, Bob?" he said, and both the other men jumped, despite their own loud voices.

"Why, Bart, I didn't think you were ever going to say anything again," said Bob.

"You wish," said Bart, and found he couldn't quite hold Bob's gaze, but he managed by looking in Bob's direction; "Was there a reason you're here?"

"Oh, there's a reason, which is why only you two are subjecting me to such rudeness. Your mother has been good enough to treat me as a guest at least."

"Mrs. Simpson would treat dirt as a guest if she could," said Nelson "She's just good like that."

Bart looked Bob straight in the eyes this time; "I don't mean to be rude, man. But you didn't expect me to be _happy_ you're here, did you?"

"Indeed not. But you could have said something to me. Surely you're old enough now not be afraid of me?"

"I didn't say I was afraid. And growing up doesn't just make stuff go away."

"I suppose not, especially considering you've done so little," Bob smirked, looking him up and down.

Ignoring the growing desire to say "eat my shorts", Bart scowled at him and turned to Nelson; "Are you okay about sleeping on the floor?"

Nelson nodded; "Yeah, that's cool. If I get uncomfortable I'll just kick you outta your bed."

"…Great."

"Okay, Bob, here's your wine," said Marge, handing it to him, then she turned to Nelson; "Beer."

"Thanks Mrs. Simpson." The two of them chorused.

"Mom, why is Bob here?" Bart sat up a little.

"I was asking him about that man who's following you around," Marge smiled, as though it was obvious.

"You _told_ him?"

"Well of course she has, you idiot boy," scoffed Bob, "And don't blame your mother; I would have found out anyway."

"How?" Bart crossed his arms and frowned.

"Well first of all, everyone's been warned about this man pursuing someone, and most parents know you're the victim," he coughed slightly "Besides, the police _were_ going to speak to me about it."

"But… Chief Wiggum said that he knew it wasn't you. He was sure…"

"Ah, but could I not quite easily get someone else to do the dirty work for me? Maybe to check your neighborhood and alert me when you returned? Come now, Bart; you used to be so good at making me the man behind every single crime in Springfield."

Bob took a sip of his wine, and Bart thought he saw a rather bitter look in the man's eyes. The boy looked at the floor in awkwardness; he wasn't really in the mood to be accusing or apologizing right now. Overall, he just didn't want to be near Bob, and it was a feeling that would never be changed by the man's piercing eyes, handsome face or deep, silky voice. Not that they were qualities he would ever think about. And not that they were qualities, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry, this chapter was obscenely long, (for me) so I split it.<strong>


	11. Ch 11 Male Aggression Part Two

**And here, my beloved cabbages is part II. Enjoy! Male Aggression: Part 2**

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><p>After a short while, when it was clear no one was going to say anything, he finally spoke: "So, mom… if the police are getting involved, why did you invite Bob?"<p>

"Sweetie, Wiggum said that we should get the mind of a… Bob to help solve the crime; like when your father was being attacked," Marge said.

Bart sighed.

"Believe me, Bart. I'd rather not be wasting my time here. I'm a very busy man, and I don't need your arrogance shoved in my face when I'm here to help," said Bob, finishing his wine.

"Okay, okay. But why are you _here_? You obviously don't want to be, and none of us knows who this guy is."

"That is exactly the point, Bart. You don't know who's following you… but from my experiences in this state of affairs, I have reason to believe that the only way to catch this man is to find out his identity. And I also have reason to believe that the only way for me to help you find out his identity is for _you_ to help _me_."

Bart frowned; "But I told you-…"

"…That you don't know who it is. But I don't think, that you're thinking quite hard enough. Marge here told me that when you returned home a couple of months back, you were in some distress. What happened, Bart?"

If he'd been able to, Bart would have wrenched his gaze from Bob's eyes to glare at his mother. Instead, he did something that made Bob suddenly far more suspicious. He looked at the floor; "I… I had a fight."

"A fight?" asked Bob, icily.

"Yeah," replied Bart, his voice very quiet.

"I didn't know that," said Nelson, who sounded more indignant than concerned.

"Quiet," said Bob, ignoring Nelson's protests "What was the fight about, Bart?"

"Well, it was more of a… beating I guess," Bart said, uncomfortable.

"Well, what was it? A beating or a fight? Did you retaliate? Did you start it?" Bob had leant in slightly, his eyes glinting but the rest of his face emotionless.

Marge was staring at her son, desperate for some information on his condition that night.

"I… this guy, we never really got along... that well. And… I didn't start it. I hit him back, but I was trying to get away."

"So what happened? Did he hit you and then run away? Did you get away yourself? Did anyone see you?"

"I… I got away… just as these other guys came in."

"What did they do?"

"They t-tried to make sure I was okay… but I ran off."

"And came back home?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think this man following you could be him?"

"No."

"…You seem very certain of that."

"I'm sure. It can't be him."

"Why?" said Nelson, looking thoroughly intrigued.

"He's been sent to an institution… that's why I went to talk to him."

"But you said you didn't get on." One of Bob's dark red eyebrows was raised again.

"I know… but I felt bad for him I guess. I… was a bit of a jerk to him the week before."

"It must be your way with words, Bart," said Bob, sarcastically "I would imagine the only reason that you don't have any lasting damage is because your oversized skull is so thick."

"Hey, fuck you, dude, that's Marge Simpson's son you're talkin' to!" barked Nelson.

"Nelson!" cried Marge.

Bob stood so abruptly that everyone jumped. Suddenly, Bart was aware of just how tall the man was. His hair still cast that goofy yet menacing shadow on the wall behind him. Bart, in spite of himself, put his hands up in defense at exactly the same speed.

Bob leant in close to Nelson; "Look here, you young thug, I know damn well who the brat is, and I would rather be anywhere else on earth than here right now."

"So why don't you leave?" grunted Nelson, sticking his chin out.

But Bob was looking at Bart, who was gently lowering his hands, staring at his lap. This time, both of Bob's eyebrows rose slightly. His grey eyes narrowed with the understanding that something was very wrong.

"Now that sounds like a plan," he said, finally.

He stood to his full height, and nodded at Marge; "Thank you for the wine Mrs. Simpson, I shall of course try to help out while I can, but please know that I take no pleasure in it."

"I appreciate your help, Mr. Terwilliger… I'm sure Bart will soon, too. And thanks for the show, as well," said Marge.

Bob turned to look at Bart; "Well Bart, I shall continue this when we are not being… constantly monitored," he sneered at Nelson "Until then, I want you to think as hard as you can on who this man might be… just because he hasn't been around recently, doesn't mean he's gone." And then he leaned in once more, and whispered in Bart's ear: "You may not know who he is yet, but I know that you have a story to tell. …And make no mistake I will get it out of you."

And with one last nod, he strode out of the room.

Instantly, a rather shaken up Bart went over to his mother; "Mom, what were you thinking?" His voice was soft.

"Sweetie, he's good at this and you know it."

"I don't mean that, mom! I'm trying to keep as far away from him as possible…"

"Bart! He is not going to ki-…"

"Okay! Okay… let's say, right now that he's not gonna kill me… though he sure seemed pissed at me for some reason… anyway, okay say right now he's not after my blood. …But what happens when I slip up again? You know me. I'm like dad; clumsy. What if I screw his life up again?"

"You'll just have to be careful… look, maybe we could try not leaving you alone with him? He could talk to you…"

"And why did you arrange this now? You could have warned me!"

Nelson shoved him gently; "Don't yell at the lady, Simpson."

Bart and Marge sighed simultaneously.

"Have you two had dinner?" said Marge.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay… Bart, your father will be back soon enough… would you mind helping me clean up?" She gestured at the remaining confetti and banners.

"Yeah, sure," said Bart "Nelson, you can watch TV or somethin', okay?"

But Nelson had already retrieved the vacuum cleaner from the closet and was plugging it in; "Come on Bart, you heard the lady," he said.

After cleaning up, they watched TV until midnight, and then went upstairs. Once the lights were off, and Bart lay in bed and Nelson on the floor, they were silent. Nelson mentally remarked upon Bart's soundless breathing, and how frequently he readjusted himself.

"Bart, you know that clown kept gettin' arrested for attackin' you?" Nelson whispered.

"…Yeah?"

"…Was he tryin' to touch you up?"

"No! No… not _that_," squeaked Bart. Somehow that question was almost more painful than what really happened.

"So what happened?"

Bart sighed; "You want the whole story?"

"Yeah."

"Okay… um, well. You remember how he framed Krusty for robbing the Kwik-E-Mart? When he was still Sideshow Bob, I realized it was him… that was when he was first locked up."

"Man, yeah… how old were you?"

"We would have been… eight, I guess."

Nelson shook his head, though Bart couldn't see him; "Actually I'm nearly two years older than you… so I was nine or ten."

"You've been kept back at school?"

"Yeah, but go on."

"Oh, right. Okay, then he managed to get parole because of good behavior so that he could marry my aunt Selma… but I didn't trust him, and I was right; he just wanted her money…"

"Hang on… how old was your aunt?"

"Uh… I'd say late forties?"

"Ugh! He must have been like half her age! He's not old, now!"

Bart thought about it. He didn't know Bob's exact age, but. …Yes, he supposed Bob _had _been very young. He still was, he just had a… mature personality. And was a complete snob.

"Yeah… so anyway he was sent to jail again when he was found out… him and my aunt got a divorce, and then he was gone for a while. About a year later I start getting these death threats in the post, and then he gets parole again. He carries on threatening me, so my parents', Lisa, Maggie and me change our names and live on this house boat. Only somehow he followed us. Tried to kill me… I managed to stall him long enough for the police to… for us to catch up with the police, and back to jail he goes."

"Jesus, no wonder you're so…"

"So what?"

"Nothin'… go on."

"Uh, then he got out again, and started runnin' for mayor."

"Mmm… I remember that."

"So yeah, me and Lisa foiled his plans again… then he turned up again at this air show, tryin' to destroy TV… foiled again… turned up again, and I'm thinkin' 'he's so up to something' again only-…"

Nelson's snores interrupted him. Bart smiled slightly. A rather foolish part of his brain wanted to crawl into Nelson's sleeping bag with him. Even though the encounter with Patrick had left him pretty edgy around guys, he still missed sleeping with someone's arms around him. Just having someone else in the room was enough to stop the nightmares, which strangely enough seemed to be getting worse over the weeks.

_In complete darkness, Bart and Patrick lay kissing. Patrick's kisses were slow and devouring as he attempted to be as quiet as possible. Bart wanted to respond properly, but Patrick kept his elbows braced down on the smaller boy's arms, his own hands holding Bart's head in place. He was always like this: too frigid to give more, but greedy in what he was taking. As Patrick shifted, just slightly, the duvet that covered them both lifted slightly, and a draft of cold air hit Bart's skin, making him shiver. Patrick's thigh was between Bart's legs, and Bart's thigh was between his. When Bart shuddered, Patrick let out a breath he'd been holding, as he felt the slight friction on his cock. Bart could feel the other boy's erection growing against his thigh, and then the older boy rolled off him quickly. He felt the mattress dip and then rise as the boy got up, then the bathroom door opened and closed._

_Patrick would stay in the bathroom for a while. Whether he went there to finish himself off, or wait until his erection subsided, Bart didn't know. His own erection was aching for attention, but he wouldn't finish up in here. It felt wrong, even if the other boys were all asleep. He rolled onto his side, and crossed his legs slightly, trying to think of bland, boring things that would help._

_Suddenly, the mattress dipped again._

_"Patrick?" he whispered._


	12. Ch 12 Fascism

**Sorry about slow update! Enjoy!**

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><p>Bob stared at the document in front of him. How could one piece of paper be the end of part of his life?<p>

He looked up; everyone was staring at him, expectantly.

Sighing, he reached out, took the pen, hesitated, and then signed his name.

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><p>In April, Bart was walking home from school alone. He'd been held behind for a two hour detention, mainly for not doing some homework, and partly for being a "smart-ass".<p>

"Hello, Bart."

Bart froze. There was no mistaking that voice. He turned around and saw Bob walking toward him. He contemplated running away, but then realized Bob wouldn't dare try anything in public.

"…Hi," he said, warily.

"You know, someone who's being stalked really shouldn't be out on their own," said Bob, and began to walk with the boy slowly along the street.

"Well, he hasn't been around for nearly two months, and it's not like he'll try anything in public," said Bart, rather pointedly.

"I suppose it would be more difficult for him… but you know, there's always a chance someone could bundle you into their car and drive off," Bob said, looking rather too intrigued by the idea.

"I… I would have got the bus, but I got held up at school."

"Detention?"

"Yeah."

"How did I guess?" Bob smirked slightly.

Annoyed, Bart said; "So how come you're here?"

"Me? Oh, I had some business to attend to. And I do recall promising your mother to help with this stalker."

"I don't think you need to bother."

"No, but it makes me look good to the police… and your parents. I won't lie to you, Bart. I don't particularly care about this business. You're as ungrateful and you are arrogant."

There was a moment of silence between them, as Bob sneered to himself, and Bart tried to figure out why the older man's statement had hurt so much.

Walking side by side, Bob toward above the teen, even though Bart was now standing too; the man's very presence was intimidating. Strange, thought Bart, for a man whose shadow resembled a palm tree.

"Do you still want to kill me?" Bart asked, suddenly, almost casually.

"Oh, I don't know, Bart. It's been a long time, at least three of the years between the last time we met were very depressing, no thanks to you. And yet, even when I have nothing to do with you anymore, you're still forcing yourself into my life."

Bart stopped walking; "Hey, this time it's not my fault, okay? I didn't ask for your help!"

"And if I don't offer it at least, the police will be sticking their noses into my business once more!"

"Well give it up, okay? You've offered it, and I don't want it. You don't want to be near me as much as I don't wanna be near you, so just… go. Just go, I don't wanna see you again."

Bob's eyes narrowed; "You know what, Bart? I hope that unfortunate soul following you whom you've obviously terrorized into insanity _does _return, and I hope you pay dearly for your actions."

As he walked off, Bart cried after him; "What's your problem?"

"You are!" Bob yelled back childishly over his shoulder.

Both men went home that night absolutely seething with rage. Bob just couldn't believe the kid still had the nerve to snub him, when he was the one the police suspected the most. He'd heard that the kid had gone to Tornstone, an incredibly expensive school. Why did the kid benefit from everything? And why had he behaved so delicately that night he was at the Simpson home?

Perhaps Bart had developed into the little rat of the school; deceiving his friends and blabbing to the teachers. Perhaps the other boys had discovered his treachery, and hit him.

"Exactly what he deserves," Bob muttered to himself, unconvincingly.

Bart went home wanting to shout and kick things. What the hell was wrong with the man? Yes, he was being questioned on account of this stalker, but serves him right for trying to kill a little boy for four years! And there was something else… something deeper. The man was bitter about something, but Bart was sure that it wasn't to do with the stalker incident.

It began to rain, but Bart barely noticed and kept thinking. Perhaps some of Bob's family were still in jail? There was his mother… his father, brother, wife… But then, why hadn't he reacted like that to the rest of Bart's family? To Lisa that time his father went missing? He knew Bob's son, Gino was in his custody. Were things not going well?

_"No, it's John."_

_Bart gulped; "Wuh-why are you here?"_

_Bart could sense the other boy's grin in his voice; "Did he finish you off, kid?"_

_"What?"_

_Suddenly the older boy's hand skimmed over his stomach and then down, just managing to brush Bart's erection before the kid sat up._

_"Good," said John._

Since Bart's argument with Bob, Bart and Marge's relationship had wavered slightly after Marge accused her son of deliberately insulting Bob and being ungrateful, despite Bart's protests that the older man had been the one who caused _him _offense.

This had prompted a drunken Homer to choke Bart for "shouting at your very sexy mother", and this prompted Nelson to punch Homer in the face for "child abuse" and "dragging Bart's sexy mother into the abuse". Surprisingly, all Homer had said was "fair enough" before passing out on the kitchen floor, and Marge had thanked Nelson for intervening but that "maybe next time it could be through, mm… less violent means".

Later that night, as the boys got ready for bed, Nelson asked: "Bart, does your father do that to you a lot?"

Bart didn't answer him, and changed into his pajamas.

The older boy's eyes narrowed and he coughed once. Then twice, the next time louder. Bart's head was bowed slightly, and Nelson could just make out the from the boy's eyelashes that he was looking down at his own hands.

Nelson coughed again, went over to the boy and stood right up close to him. Bart's head was now at Nelson's chest. He could easily rest his chin on it. Instead, he gently grabbed the front of Bart's pajamas, causing the boy the have to stand on tiptoes.

"Simpson, answer the damn question," Nelson said, casually.

Bart sighed; "It… uh… not that much. Not… Yeah. Not much," he finished rather feebly.

Unfazed, Nelson let him down, brushed the front of the boy's pajamas and went on: "'Cause I think it's sick. You can't do that to people smaller 'n you."

Bart looked at him then; "After all the years _you've_ been bullying kids smaller than you?" He got into his bed.

"Not the same," grunted Nelson, "I thump for lunch money, masculinity, status… decent obscenity."

"Fascism," mumbled Bart.

Nelson sat on the edge of Bart's bed. The smaller boy's body stiffened, but his heart fluttered.

"Well, yeah but…" Nelson seemed to be struggling with his words "there's always a… limit to what I do. If your dad held on any longer, he could've suffocated ya."

"Well, he didn't, did he?" Bart sighed, and brought his hands forward to unconsciously play with the metal studs on Nelson's leather vest.

"Thanks to me," said Nelson proudly.

Bart smiled slightly, and looked Nelson directly in the eye.

"Yeah."

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><p><strong>Much love to my sudden explosion of reviewers last week. XXX<strong>


	13. Ch 13 Arguments

**Hey! All Simpson ficcers out there! You've probably noticed that there's now a characters choice section on the Simpson fic section! I suggest everyone who's written a fic, sort out your sections. I've put this fic with Sideshow Bob and Bart Simpson as the two key characters (obviously) but I think if everyone does it, it will be much easier to track down the slash!**

**(Or non-slash, if you will)**

**XXXX**

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><p>May 5th marked Maggie's birthday; her eighth. Once again a party was being arranged, and Bart was helping with the festivities, along with Nelson, who had been staying at the Simpson home more frequently over the last two months. Later on, Maggie, Lisa, Homer and Marge would be going to see the <em>Krusty the Klown Show <em>live, as Homer had managed to win them free tickets as compensation for the hallucinations he'd had after eating Krusty brand cereal.

Bart had insisted on staying at home, because of his dispute with Bob and his diminished admiration of Krusty. However, once again he'd helped arrange the party. Surprisingly, Nelson had said he would rather stay with Bart than go to the show with the other Simpsons. Although, as the boy had said: "I have an un-disturbing love and respect for your mom, Bart, and an uncontrollable hatred for your dad, who I want to kick in his soft places."

And so during the morning, Bart kept Nelson as far away from Homer as possible, before the man went out. The two of them joked about in the corner, and were then yelled at by Marge for getting crumbs on the carpet;

"Mom, this is a kid's party; the carpet's gonna get a little messy!" said Bart, following his mother into the kitchen.

"Well you're not kids! And I still can't believe you're behaving like one, Bart," Marge cried, "Why are you being so selfish? You wouldn't stay for Josie's party, and now you're not coming to the show for Maggie's!"

"_Selfish_?" Bart said in disbelief; "Mom, I told you why I can't go!"

Marge, turned to start cleaning up some dishes in the sink with her back to him, seemed to hesitate, then: "It's not about that… it's your sisters I'm thinking of."

"I spoke to Mags about it and she was totally cool. And I'm here now aren't I? I got her a present, right?"

Marge turned around; "Maggie's probably just concealing how disappointed she is! And it wouldn't matter to her whether you got her all the presents in the world! All she wants is her big brother there for her birthday!"

"And I'm here NOW, mom. Just think about this, okay? If I was still at Tornstone, I wouldn't even have _seen _Mags, let alone give her a present."

"That's all very well, Bart, but you shouldn't do the minimum just because you can," said Marge, her hands on her hips.

Bart ran a hand over his eyes, one of which was twitching slightly, and then looked his mother straight in the eye; "So where's dad?" he said, quietly.

"What?"

"Where is dad? He's not working today, he's got nothing to do… so where is he?"

"…_He's_ coming to the show, Bart."

"Yeah, right. Falling asleep with his fries in the front row. Did he help you get ready for the party? Did he get Maggie the bike she wanted? When he gets home from Mo's is he gonna help you clean up?"

Marge bit her lip, looked at the floor. And then Bart saw it; himself, standing in front of that mirror, bloody lip, running nose, torn shirt. He and his mother did exactly the same thing when they were cornered.

Suddenly, a rasping chuckle was heard; it was Aunt Patty. "Kid, I take back everything I assumed about you the last seventeen years," she continued giggling in her not-so-girlish way; "You've proved to me that there is hope for some men, especially the ones with pigs for their fathers."

Bart sighed, and mirrored his mother; his teeth went into his lower lip, and he looked down; "Mom… y' know, if we were going to see any other show, I'd go with you. I just can't."

"Why can't you?" asked Patty, frowning.

"Mr. Terwilliger, I guess. After you were rude to him when he was offering his help?" said Marge.

"I told you that's not true… but yeah, it is… partly to do with him… and Krusty," Bart walked back into the living room, where the shrieks of little girls reverberated from.

Marge sat at the table with her head in her hands. Her sister sat next to her;

"Marge, I know you want him to be around for the girls, but… I have to admit I think he's doing the right thing," said Patty in her deep gravelly voice.

"But Bob was going to help him! He was so good when Homer was being threatened and…" Marge sniffed, her eyes watering slightly "and Bart still isn't telling me everything about Tornstone. There's more to it Patty, I know it. And I know that Bob saw it too."

Patty nodded slightly, and lit up a cigarette; "I know it's hard to understand what's going through the kid's head, but… he's a teenager, Marge. And he's being great with his sisters; better than me and Selma ever were with each other or you, and better than Homer will ever be. Bart's right, you know. That kid's just reestablished my respect for men… uh, though it still diminishes."

As Marge continued to sniff, Patty reached toward a box of tissues, and held one out to her. Marge took it and blew her nose, and Patty noticed with a little resentment, how quietly and delicately her youngest sister did it.

"I know… in a situation like this, it's not easy, but you must try to see what _good _Bart's doing. I mean, I expected him to look, well, like a miniature Homer. He's in such good shape! 'Specially for a short person. He helps you clean the house, he's doing his homework… well, in the classes he likes… he's good to his sisters…"

"Yeah, he's good to them… but he doesn't seem to talk to them anymore! Not even Lisa! I remember when they were children and they would argue all the time! What happened, Patty?"

"…He doesn't know them well enough. He knew his sister's as _children_, Marge. Well… Lisa, at least. Maggie as a baby. He barely knows Josie and he's being so good."

Marge sobbed into the already disintegrating tissue. Patty sighed, hoarsely; "Marge… when you sent Bart to that school… what did you think would happen? That he'd come back and be the same kid only a little smarter? He's still got some fight in him, Marge… it'll be okay. As long as he doesn't turn out like your husband, everything will be okay."

_"John! What are you doing?" Whispered Bart, trying to push the older boy away._

_"Now Bart, you know what I'm doing. I'm doing what Patrick won't," said John quietly, and brought a rather sweaty hand down to ungracefully rub Bart through his pajamas._

_Bart gasped; he was cringing at having John's sweaty hands on him, but the friction he was getting made it difficult to try and resist._

_"No, John," he said, and grabbed John's hand, but the older boy was too strong._


	14. Ch 14 Gunshot

**Hello! I'm sorry that my updates have become less frequent, but you know how busy life is near Christmas. I also appreciate that this fic is a very slow one in terms of slashiness, but as you will see at the end of this chapter, it's about to get interesting!**

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><p>Weeks later, on July 29th, Bart celebrated his seventeenth birthday. A few people from Bart's school had been invited to a surprisingly modest party, including Milhouse and Nelson. There was a little alcohol, most of which had been supplied by Nelson and Homer, resulting in a kind of showdown between the two of them, the aim of which was to see who could produce the most amount of alcohol from their clothes. Homer won, but proceeded to drink his victory almost instantaneously.<p>

Nelson continued to taunt Homer throughout the day, particularly when Marge called to Homer; "Homie, could you throw out that cracked mirror? It's a hazard!"

"What happened _Homie_," taunted Nelson; "did you look at it?"

Bart had managed to cope through the day with all this male aggression around him reasonably okay. Over the months following the incident with Patrick, Bart had decided to pretend it never happened. After all, what good would it do him to think about it? So what, he had night terrors? He'd get over them one day. It wasn't like Patrick had managed to do anything. And it wasn't like the other boys were in any danger. In June, Tom had written him a letter saying that both John and Ron had left Tornstone in April for reasons unknown, so Bart knew that everyone was safe.

He had decided that by keeping his mouth shut, everything would be fine. So he was a little scared of other men? Wasn't that a good thing? Surely this put him on his guard; stopped him trusting people too quickly. He had Milhouse, who despite being taller than him would probably not beat him in a fight; Ralph, who would remain faithful to anyone who had something he could stick up his nose, and then there was Nelson, who despite being rather aggressive to Bart at times, always defended him. Well, physically. He never stepped in to stop Jimbo, Dolph or Kearney calling him names, but that was Nelson; loyal to his own boundaries.

Towards the evening many of the boys started to leave, and Bart had to admit that he was glad. Everything felt far less claustrophobic when it was just him and the boys he was closer to, and as the evening wore on, he felt his temperature drop gently, and his heartbeat even out somewhat.

Eventually, when only he, Milhouse, Nelson and Ralph remained, he felt a sense of calm rush over him. The four of them happily sat together and watched _Krusty and Terwilliger _for a couple more hours. The other three had persuaded Bart to start watching it about a month before, and since then, Bart had acknowledged that it was very good, and decided that his reason for watching it wasn't at all because Bob was in it. At all.

When Ralph decided to leave, Bart got up with him out of politeness. When he opened the door, a cool breeze entered, and there was a distinct noise of close footsteps, and they sounded like they were hurrying away from the house. The smell of newly mown grass and a hint of cigarette smoke hit his nostrils. He stood in the doorway as Ralph hugged him a little too affectionately and tightly for his liking.

Then several things happened at once.

Ralph released Bart from his grip, just as Bart sneezed, accidentally knocking their heads together, and just before this happened, there was a cry of "'Scuse me, comin' through!" and then Homer elbowed them both aside, carrying a large cracked mirror through the doorway. And at almost exactly the same time as Bart sneezed, the mirror, somehow, shattered completely.

Everything was still. Bart and Ralph stood staring at Homer, hands at their sore heads, and Homer just stood there, clutching at the empty wooden mirror frame.

"Dear Lord! What on God's green Earth was that bang?" cried a voice.

"Shut up, Flanders," Homer muttered shakily.

"Bang?" said Bart, thoughtfully, and he reached out to the mirror frame, and turned it to face him.

There was a bullet in almost the exact centre of the frame. It was tiny and rounded and still smoking slightly.

"Oh my God," whispered Bart, and looked out into the street. Just for a second, he thought he saw a house light flicker, where someone had run past in front of it.

Ralph's eyes were the size of soccer balls; "I'll get my daddy." He was the most serious sounding Bart had ever heard him.

"No. No way."

"Yes _way_, young man. You are not backing out of this one!"

"Mom, this is…"

"Crazy. I know. But it worked for your father, and I think this is the best option."

"But why does it have to be _him_?"

"Because he was the one who helped your father. He's got experience, and I think that this will help you to calm down about him."

Bart was sat at the kitchen table with a blanket around him, feeling utterly drained. After the incident with the mirror, he'd spent the rest of his birthday evening at the police station with Ralph, Ralph's father and his own parents. Over and over again Chief Wiggum had mentioned how the bullet was a custom-made product of unique design that would be practically impossible to trace back to an owner;

"So you see, this time it's not just us being lazy," he'd grinned.

But because of his mother's persistence, Wiggum had managed to produce the ultimate plan of misery;

Allow Sideshow Bob to once again come and live with the Simpsons.

"Mom, I…"

"I will not be argued with on this, Bart. Look. Get to bed. We're all exhausted. I'm sorry this had to happen on your birthday."

"Well I guess if it hadn't we wouldn't have been sure who this person was aiming for," muttered Bart and got up to leave, then; "Wait! Mom, I have Tom staying here for summer break, there won't be any room for Bob to stay."

"Bart, we got an extension after Josie was born, don't you remember? Bob can stay in the guest bedroom and Tom can stay with you in yours. If Nelson wants to stay at some point there'll still be plenty of space in your room, and we have new camping beds!"

Bart knew that trying to argue his point past one o'clock in the morning was not a good idea, but nevertheless he felt defeated already. Fixing his face into a pout, he brought the blanket up over his head like a kind of hood, and trudged up the stairs, allowing the blanket to trail on the ground behind him like some kind of morbid painting subject.

Despite being physically exhausted, his mind was still reeling. He barely registered tripping over Nelson's snoring form in the dark, and calmly picked himself up before collapsing onto his own bed.

He supposed, that the good part of this situation was that Tom would be here, and sometimes maybe Nelson, so he could easily avoid being alone with the man.

And besides, there was always the chance that Bob would refuse to come and stay. That was very, very likely, considering the last conversation he'd had with the man.

To be honest, Bart thought the entire thing was ridiculous. He was edgy enough as it was without his ex-archenemy or ex-ex-archenemy being around him constantly.

Why couldn't the police do something about it? Why not even attempt to relocate them, or have an inspector to come and live with them?

Bart tried to ignore the intelligent part of his brain that was telling him; "there is no inspector who's good enough".

Who the hell was this person come to kill him? Why no threats? Why now, too. They could have done it way before now. Where did they go all those months?

As Bart began to fall asleep, his thoughts became jumbled and nonsensical. A little smile found its way onto his face when he remembered the last time Bob had stayed with them. The exasperated noises that were constantly heard whenever the older man watched TV, his constant attempts to grab the electric shock device off them, the hesitation in his face when he held that knife over Bart.

Bart's last lingering thought before falling sound asleep was how peculiar it had always felt whenever Bob picked him up. He remembered how Bob could easily hold him at arms length by the scruff of his neck, or by his ankle. And then the way he studied Bart with his gaze when he became lost in the revelation of being incapable of killing the boy. Bart's little hands clutching at the man's shirt, not to hold his knife-wielding hand away from him, but in a kind of silent plea to the man to spare him, or some kind of last attempt for some comfort.

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><p><strong>PEOPLE. FRIENDS. SLASHERS. If anyone out there is a Simpson slash fan... I think you should challenge yourselves to write little fics. I mean I know it's a lot of effort, but nothing seems to be really moving forward in this fandom. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps there's been some little gem of a fic that I've missed, but I don't know. I'm a fan of NelsonBart or Bob/Bart so I'll be pretty impatient with anything else, which is a bit sad. Anyway, Bob/Bart Xmas fic, anybody? Example:**

**"Bart, what on EARTH is that up there?" said Bob.**

**"Mistletoe." said Bart.**

**"Ah."**

**"Bart?"**

**"Yeah?"**

**"This has to be the worst short fic ever written."**

**"I know but roxannelilith's ill and perverted, it's not her fault."**


	15. Ch 15 Civilities

**Hello! Terribly sorry I've neglected updating this for a bit, but rest assured I am going to keep it up.**

**I will be updating less frequently, but only so that I can really concentrate on finishing this properly (I write about three chapters in advance to make sure I don't abandon my fic)**

**Hope everyone had a great Christmas and please enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>The doorbell rang.<p>

Bart looked up from his drawing. He was tense. His heart thumped fast.

Footsteps… the door opening…

Aunt Patty's voice. Or Selma's… but only one of them.

"Thank God," whispered Bart under his breath.

Bob would be arriving today; what time, nobody knew. Bart had been desperately trying to figure out what to do with himself all day. Nelson, Milhouse and Ralph were all busy, and he didn't want to go out anyway incase he met Bob.

Bart had decided that when Bob did arrive, he'd pretend not to hear unless his mother called him down. He doubted Bob would have anything to say to him. Chief Wiggum had said Bob had "resentfully agreed" to come and stay with them; "So you oughtta be grateful, son."

Bart wished badly that Tom was already here, but he wasn't arriving for another week. What was he going to do? He supposed that he could just check up everyday where Bob was, and then go somewhere else to avoid confrontation, but knew that his mother would definitely want him to talk to the man.

The door slammed shut. His aunt, whichever one they were, had left.

He'd been trying to kid himself all day that Nelson not being there was a good thing, but right now it wasn't working. If Nelson was here, at least he'd have someone to hide behind, though his parents would surely push him toward Bob for a greeting.

There was a knock on the door and Bart jumped slightly. It was Lisa.

"Bart, you okay?" She asked with a sympathetic look in her eyes.

"No," said Bart.

"Look, during the time Bob's here… you do need to talk to him, but me and Maggie will try to give you a break sometimes, 'kay? We'll try not to leave you two alone."

Bart nodded gratefully; "Oh God, this is so bad."

"It's gonna be fine, Bart," said Maggie, peering out from under her sister's arm.

"For you, yeah," said Bart.

Later, the doorbell rang.

Bart, now on his fourth copy of the same drawing, tensed again.

Footsteps… door opening…

"Good evening Marge. Homer."

Bart huddled into his chair as much as possible; "Aw crap."

Bob's smooth voice was muffled, but Bart somehow could detect the exact line of his conversation;

Compliments… pleasantries over weather… thanks for hospitality… informing his parents that he'd rather not be doing this...

"Bart! Lisa! Maggie!" barked their father's voice, followed by Josie screaming something similar:

"Bah! Lalamah!"

It would have been funny if not for the grimness of the situation.

When Bart went into the corridor, Lisa and Maggie smiled at him encouragingly, and the brave Maggie went downstairs first, followed by her brother, then older sister.

"Would you kids sit at the table; it's almost dinner."

The three of them nervously went into the dining room, where Bob was sat, waiting.

"Hello, children," he said, smoothly and gave Bart a smirk.

They all echoed rather awkward "hellos" and sat down.

Bart wondered how many awkward moments at the dinner table this was now. He supposed he wouldn't really know, because despite half of those moments being his own doing, it was usually his parents who paid the price.

And whilst this situation was uncomfortable in a rather different way than before; as usual, in a scenario concerning Sideshow Bob, the adults were calm and rational, and the children were shooting nervous glances at each other across the table.

Josie, who had been shouting loudly whilst her mother served the dinner, suddenly went quiet when she noticed her siblings' subtle exchanges. Her wide eyes went from Maggie, to Lisa, and then to Bart, and when her brother glanced at Bob, Josie looked at the man as well.

Bob had become a very recognizable figure to the baby, and so gave him a smile. The three other Simpson children were surprised when Bob smiled back at their youngest sister, and Bart felt an ache in his chest that he hoped was worry.

"Bart," said Bob, once the whole family was sat down at the table, "I need to speak with you alone after dinner."

Bart, who had attempted to disguise his little jump when Bob had spoken, said: "Okay."

Bob nodded, and his gaze lingered on the boy for a second longer before he began to eat.

"So, Bob," said Marge, "How's show business?"

"It's going well, thank you Marge. The show is being broadcast on a far wider range than we'd originally anticipated, and the reviews have been most generous," Bob smirked.

"So… good publicity? I can't imagine how you and Krusty deal with such fame."

"Well Marge, I admit it will probably get progressively difficult. We've had a couple of people who've asked us to perform for their children's birthday parties, only to find that actually it's an adult party... Something which is not on our agenda. But on the whole, I think it's good for Krusty that this is happening now. He's been through all the ups and downs of fame, but only on a pretty local scale. He's experienced enough not to crumble under the pressure."

Bart, to everyone's surprise spoke up suddenly; "And what about you?"

Bob raised a groomed eyebrow; "Me?"

Bart sat up a little and cleared his throat slightly, "Yeah, how do you deal with the publicity?"

"That depends… I imagine virtually anyone who's ever been cornered by the press despise them; but my method of dealing with them, is by preparing short, simple answers to any questions I suspect they'll ask me, or by not answering at all."

Bob stopped and looked at Bart, who tilted his head to the side and gave a little "Uh-huh" in reply; something which made the older man's heart skip a beat.

"…Uh, on the other hand," Bob continued "I'm always more than happy to give interviews… provided they're for respectable shows that don't attempt to humiliate its guests. Of course, we are also needed to promote our own material, but I've managed to persuade Krusty to reduce the amount of… _low quality_ merchandise."

Bob looked directly at Bart when he spoke the words "low quality". It could have been unintentional. But Bart found that unlikely. Raising his pale little eyebrows slightly, he nodded and looked back down at his food. He supposed that Bob had a point there; seventeen years old, and the most productive thing he'd done today was edit the Sherlock Holmes Wikipedia page to read: "Holmes and Watson have been engaging in a passionate, violently homosexual relationship for the duration of the novels".

When everyone had finished, Marge, with the help of Lisa cleared the plates away and everyone except Bart and Bob got up and left the dining room.

Bob stood and then slid into the chair directly next to the boy, who shifted away just a fraction.

"Bart, I realize that things between us are always going to be… turbulent. But because of this case with you… I'm sure you feel the same way when I say that I just want this to be over and done with so that I may return to my own life."

"Yeah," said Bart, studying his hands.

"Good. Well, I suppose I was, at least partly to blame for our argument a few weeks back..."

Bart snorted slightly.

"…But I still feel that you need to listen to me carefully and follow my advice. You must cooperate with me, and I with you." Bob reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a small piece of folded paper.

"Now, the police discovered a small button from the area where you were shot at. There is nothing remarkable about the button; it's plastic, probably from a work shirt and overall there is a chance tha-… BART!"

Bart's head was turned in the direction of the sitting room where the television was blaring. He jumped slightly at Bob's exclamation and looked back at him.

"You see this is why I have an eternal feud with that infernal box!" Bob fumed, his cheeks turning slightly red. He stopped however, when he caught a little glimpse of a smile in the boy's expression.

"What's so funny?" he snarled.

Bart looked away toward the table, and then said: "S'just… nothin'."

Bob looked at the boy closely. Was it just him, or was Bart's face a bit pink?

"Uhm… are you feeling alright?" he said, awkwardly.

"I dunno," said Bart "This is just… it's weird."

Bob bit his lip; "Yes... Yes I suppose it is." He was half torn between wanting to slap the infuriating teenager across the face, and half just giving in and going home.

Eventually he cleared his throat, making Bart jump slightly; "You know, I am going to have to keep questioning you. And if I were you Bart, I wouldn't play about. There's someone trying to kill you who very nearly succeeded. I am here for your protection and this time…" he pushed the piece of paper into Bart's hand, the boy shivering slightly when their fingers grazed each other, "I'm not wearing an electric tag."

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><p><strong>PORNPORNPORNPORNPORNPORN<strong>


	16. Ch 16 Video Games

**Sorry about how slow this fic is, but stuff will happen soon! Also have to apologise for how messily my chapters are split up. XX**

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><p>The next day Nelson came over, casually throwing down a bag of probably stolen video games in front of the Simpson's television set, and collapsing on the couch next to Bart.<p>

"You know," said Nelson loudly when Bob walked through the sitting room and into the kitchen, "I honestly don't know why they let clowns out into public these days, let alone have them on TV."

"You don't know a lot, do you?" came the drawling reply from the doorway.

Nelson stood up, and at first Bart feared that he was about to throw a punch at Bob, but instead he bent down and inserted one of the games into the console under the television set, giving the blonde a brief look at his behind.

"So, Bart. Who's this other guy comin' to stay with ya?" he asked casually as he plugged in the controllers and sat on the floor. He patted the floor next to him, inviting Bart to sit.

"Tom," Bart said, taking his controller from Nelson "he's from Tornstone."

"Your friend?"

"No, my lover."

"Huh?"

"Of course he's my friend!"

Bart yelped when Nelson pinched him, causing Bob to sharply look up from his breakfast in the kitchen. Bob stood up with his bowl and went to sit down in the lounge, keen to observe what the problem was.

Bart was clutching at his sore arm and rubbing it slightly, scowling at Nelson.

"Well I didn't know runt, I thought maybe you were doin' some kind of gay exchange trip-thing."

"So why would _I_ be staying here?" said Bart. Then he looked at Bob who was once again sat in the armchair, smirking at the two of them.

"You're not really allowed to eat in here," he said uncertainly.

Swallowing some cereal, Bob replied: "Your mother said I could, besides which, I'm technically supposed to be keeping an eye on you whilst your parents are out."

The crunching noise of Bob eating his cereal filled the room.

"I'm seventeen," said Bart, indignantly.

"And don't you just behave like it," sneered Bob. "It's in case the attacker's around here again you little fool."

Nelson snorted; "Bart'd be fine with just me here." He rather obviously flexed his arm muscles.

The younger boy was getting progressively more exasperated; "I'd be _fine_ alone!"

"No, you might do yourself harm… if no one else does," said Bob.

"He's fine with _me_," Nelson grunted.

"Oh yes, he'll be completely safe with your calm dispos-…."

Bart sighed; _this_ was what life would be like from now on? Then a nasty jolt of realization struck him: What was going to happen when Bob, Nelson _and_ his father were here?

"SO BART," said Nelson, cutting loudly across Bob; "what's this guy Tom like?"

"…Milhouse," said Bart, his eyes looking rather glazed "but shorter and quieter."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Nelson retrieved a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it; "How long's he here for?"

"Two weeks."

His fingers furiously pressing the buttons on his controller, the older boy said: "Are you gonna be with him all the time?"

"Well… yeah."

The clicking noise of the boys playing on the console became louder and more frequent, and the crunching noise from the armchair became slower and quieter.

"Why?" said Nelson, inhaling from his cigarette and then tucking it back over his ear.

"Well I can't leave him on his own in some strange house, can I?" said Bart, feeling rather irritated.

"So, if you come out with us, you'll bring him?"

"… I dunno. It might be too awkward. We might not go out with you guys."

Bob's eyes narrowed in interest, unnoticed by either of the boys.

"Why would it be awkward?" Nelson's voice had an unmistakable sulky tone.

"'Cause he doesn't know any of you guys. It would be like taking you to Tornstone; it just wouldn't work."

"Why wouldn't I work at Tornstone?"

"You'd probably blow it up."

Bob snorted.

Nelson's head snapped up; "What the fuck are you laughin' at?" he growled, then looked back at Bart; "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"No," said Bart, a hint of a smile in his voice "but it's just not practical, is it?"

Bob chuckled slightly, earning another deathly glare from Nelson.

Nelson took a long drag from his cigarette, and then blew the smoke in Bart's face. Coughing, the younger boy swore when the distraction caused him to lose the game.

Before Bart could snap at Nelson further, Bob cut across him;

"Bart, you and I need to talk when you two have finished playing together."

Bart couldn't resist; "Are you breaking up with me?" he pouted at Bob.

For one moment, Bob seemed to be at war with himself. His forehead went a little pink, his lips went thin and tight and he glowered down at the cackling boys. Then, quick as a flash he regained his composure and said: "Actually we need to discuss your… situation."

"Oh," said Bart, looking depressed "Thrilling."

"Yes. It is." Bob stood and walked back into the kitchen.

"Let's go upstairs," Bart whispered excitedly, making Nelson gulp.

Bart chose to pretend he didn't hear Nelson, and the two of them ran up the stairs and into Bart's room.

"Does that guy ever leave you alone?" asked Nelson; stubbing his cigarette out on a dirty plate on Bart's cluttered desk.

"Who cares about him?" said Bart, evasively.

Downstairs, Bob's eyes narrowed at the empty space in front of the television where the boys had been previously; "He'll have to face me eventually," he growled to himself, and then retreated back into the kitchen.

The rest of the week continued, for Bart, erratically and with many awkward incidents. Despite being all too keen on getting Bob's visit over and done with as quickly as possible, he could not bring himself to sit alone with the man for more than ten minutes at a time. Whereas his family could make Bart feel stifled with query and concern, something about Bob's eyes on Bart made him feel open; exposed in more ways than one. In his mind not only was there a fear of the older man's possible avengement, but also the semi-buried rush of adrenaline; a deep desire to be mischievous.

He just couldn't concentrate around the man, for once the questions began about the follower, he found his eyes wandering; admiring and judging Bob's body language and facial expressions, wondering what would happen if he announced he needed the bathroom, walked out and didn't come back for a couple of hours; or if he attempted normal conversation with him, to try and keep off the subject of Tornstone.

Their discussions tended to begin with details of the crime scene, and then Bob would say: "Now we need to go back, Bart. I think perhaps your old school is the answer to all of this."

It was easy to lie; but to convince the older man was a different matter entirely. The man's questioning had started to trace further and further back to when Bart first started at the school, and Bart just avoided letting slip about Evans. His questions were focused on teachers and possible bullies;

"Where you happy at Tornstone, Bart?"

"No."

"No?"

"…"

"I see. Did you get into trouble a lot?"

Bart was careful with his answer; "… I wasn't a troublemaker there. It just wasn't worth it."

Disbelief etched in every pore, Bob pressed on: "So you never provoked punishment? Never formed some form of… rival in one of your teachers?"

"…No."

"You're a liar."

"You're a-…"

Luckily, before Bart could finish his sentence, his mother called the two of them to lunch. Bob gave him a knowing, hateful look before he stood and went into the kitchen. Bart groaned and followed a couple of seconds afterward.

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><p><strong>ANDTHENTHEYHADVIOLENTSEX<strong>


	17. Ch 17 Tom

**sdHello my lovelies... very sorry for the delay on this chapter, as I've already said, I'm trying to get as much of the story down on paper/screen before I post stuff.**

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><p>Finally, the day came when Tom would arrive and Bart was as relieved as he was apprehensive. Would Tom start questioning Bart too? Or would he let slip about the 'clubs' the two of them had attended with the older boys at Tornstone? Would Nelson and Bob always be around; questioning and jibing until they'd driven Tom away?<p>

That afternoon, Bart was reading a comic on his bed when Bob strolled past his room; briefly glancing in at the boy who glared back in return. Two days previously, Bob had made the grave mistake of attempting to manhandle Bart into the kitchen; away from the television. Bart couldn't deny that he had been behaving like an idiot, but he was _never _going to allow Bob to grab him around the waist – or indeed anywhere. So he was _not _going to be held responsible for thumping the man across the cheek.

All in all, Bart supposed that even though Tom's visit carried a certain amount of risk, at least he could break the awkward silences that were now going on between himself and Bob. His father had taken to attempting conversation with their visitor by saying things like: "So… you're a psychopath? Good for you."

Occasionally Bart would surprise himself by worrying far more about being exposed concerning Patrick than being caught by his stalker. Naturally there was no way he'd ever let anyone find out about their kissing, but he still did not want anyone to know about their visits to the twelfth grade common room. If that came out, his mother would probably think they'd formed some kind of criminal gang or sect; delivering stolen goods to the older boys. Well, perhaps that was _a little_ extreme. He was just glad he never told Tom about him and Patrick.

When the doorbell rang Bart sprang up from his bed and rushed down to the front door, wanting to be the one to introduce his friend. When he opened the door, he immediately hugged his friend, not processing the unhappy look on his face quick enough. Pulling back slightly, he gave Tom a manly slap on the back to avoid any suspicion.

"Hey, you okay?" he beamed at Tom.

Tom smiled in an oddly relieved manner and said: "Yes… are you?" And he looked at Bart's face closely, as though he was expecting a negative answer.

"…Yeah, not bad…" Bart couldn't help but feel uneasy about his friend's behavior, then it hit him; "Were your parents unhappy with you coming here? I mean I know you said…"

"No, no. Really. They're totally fine about the uh, situation," Tom said, but didn't quite meet Bart's eye.

Then, quick as a flash, he seemed to regain his cool; "So, this is where you live. S'nice." He smiled up at the house.

"Yeah, come on in."

The two of them stepped over the threshold and went into the kitchen.

"Mom, this is Tom," said Bart.

"Hello! I hope you're well!" Marge beamed at the other boy. "And this is Bart's youngest sister, Josie."

"Hey," Tom said in return and smiled a little awkwardly to the baby who just grinned wolfishly back at him from the highchair by the window.

"I hope the journey wasn't too bad?" she asked him kindly.

"Yeah it was fine; boring but fast."

"You want a drink or anythin'?" Bart said from the corner with two glasses in his hands.

"Uh… do you have any juice?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"So Tom, where do y-…"

"Mrs. Simpson, I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of changing the light bulb in the bathroom; that flickering was giving me a headache," Bob said smoothly as he swaggered into the kitchen.

"Oh no, thank you for that," said Marge, lifting her baby out of her highchair and placing her on the floor, "Uh, Bob, this is a friend of Bart's. Tom, this is Bob who's helping out with the… our situation."

"Hello there," Bob said, extending out his hand, which the boy shook with distinct unease. Bart snorted at Bob's display.

"H-hi," Tom stuttered slightly, and wouldn't look the older man in the eye.

Bob was too busy shifting around some papers to notice Tom's hesitations, but Bart did see, and was rather confused. Shrugging it off, he supposed that Tom had always been very shy, and Bob was a rather imposing figure. Then, Bart mentally slapped himself; Tom was nervous because Bob was famous.

"Tom? Shall we go upstairs?" He gave his friend a meaningful look, who nodded in return.

As they trudged up the stairs Tom looked at all of the photographs which lined the wall, and then frowned just slightly.

When they reached Bart's room, Bart held the door open for his friend; "Ladies first."

Finally, a proper smile broke across Tom's face; "I've really missed you, Bart."

"Yeah, same."

"So… Bob Terwilliger's actually _living_ with you?"

"Yeah, maybe not for much longer; either they'll catch this guy or I'll make him so mad he'll be forced to leave," Bart grinned cheekily and sat down on his bed.

Tom frowned slightly and said: "Are you sure you're okay?" he walked over to stand directly in front of Bart and stared down at him thoughtfully. He'd grown quite a few inches over the past few months much to Bart's chagrin.

"You've already asked me that."

Tom went a little pink then. It was almost as if he was struggling with the words as he said: "Look… I need to… Well. Um."

"That _is_ hard to do."

Tom sighed and sat down next to his friend. He then put an arm around Bart, seemingly more for his own comfort than anything else; "Okay, I'm gonna really need to talk to you ab-…"

He stopped very quickly and looked toward the doorway where Bob had stopped briefly.

The older man seemed to misinterpret whatever was going on and, flustered, said: "Oh! I'm… uh, sorry!" he then walked off as quickly as possible.

Bart giggled; "That might keep him off my back for a little while longer."

Tom looked back at him; "I thought you wanted this thing over and done with as quickly as possible?"

Smiling, Bart said, quietly: "I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I kinda forget this is even happening. I mean, yeah, believe me, I _do_ want this stalker out of my life… but, in a way, not as much as I want _him_ out of it. But sometimes I forget that if he's going to leave… I'm gonna have to talk to him." He nodded toward where Bob had stood a few seconds previously.

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><p><strong>Did anyone watch the most recent <strong>_**Simpsons **_**episode? Quite a sweet little moment between Nelson and Bart on some swings. Episode was called 'Postcards from the Wedge'... watch it on wtso . net, without spaces and I can't put the www. bit on... spamming is naughty and therefore prohibited on as you'll know if you've tried writing addresses down.**


	18. Ch 18 Mixed Feelings

**Hi everyone. Sorry it has taken me so long to put up the next chapter to this awesome story. Let me say before anything else that I am so happy to have adopted this story and I want to thank ****tea-cake-biscuits. ****I want everyone to know that this story was not mine to begin with so remember that the person behind this was ****tea-cake-biscuits,**** just wanted to share the credit. **

**Okay, just so everyone knows I am going to stay to the story line, fair warning I have my own writing style so please bear with me. I write in different POV (point of views) and **_**when the text is like this that means it's someone's thoughts or a memory**_**, so just expect that. So without further ado, here is the next chapter.**

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

I looked at the doorway where Bob was just standing, just kind of waiting to see if he was going to pull any of his stupid tricks while Tom was in the room. I could just imagine him waltzing on into my room, playing it all cool, with a wine glass in his hand, and asking Tom a lot of questions about our or my, old school. That sent a shiver down my spine; I hoped it was because of fear and not something else.

"Bart? You okay?" I heard Tom ask me. I looked over at him and saw that he was looking at me with worry written all over his face. His warm brown eyes burrowed into my pale blue ones. I gave him a smile and nodded.

"Yeah I'm fine, man," I told him. He didn't seem that convinced so I turned towards him and punched his shoulder lightly. "So man, what's been going on at old Tornstone?"

Tom's eyes seemed to dim a little bit but that could have just be me, from all the stress. He rubbed the back of neck and looked down at the floor, at that moment I knew something was wrong or something was troubling him. Tom looked up from the floor with a fake smile on his face.

"Well after you left, a lot of guys missed Bessie," he laughed nervously. I could tell that he was hiding something from me but I didn't know what it was.

"Tom what's wrong?" I asked in a hushed whisper. I didn't want to hear any bad news but I kind of figured I might as well listen to it now, in the privacy of my own room. Tom took a big breath but before he could answer Lisa walked into the room.

"Hey guys, mom says lunch is ready," she told us. She stopped in my doorway looking at the both of us. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're cool, we're coming," I told her. She crossed her arms and gave me a look that mom would probably have given me when she knew I was lying. I didn't want to explain to Lisa what was going on so I thought of something.

"Tom I don't believe you have met my other sister Lisa," I told him. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to her. I grabbed her hand and made the two of them shake.

"Lisa this is Tom, my best friend from Tornstone, Tom this is my little sister Lisa," I told them. They looked at each and lightly shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Simpson," Tom smiled.

"Likewise Thomas," she added. With the tension gone, I walked ahead of the two of them. I reached the top of the stairs before Lisa and Tom; I looked back at them and saw that they were both shyly talking to each other. I could feel a small smile appear on my face.

'_I guess I'll just go down ahead,' _I thought to myself. I reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to head into the dining room when I ran into someone. Their hands took a hold of my shoulders and a memory surfaced.

_I landed on the ground with a loud 'thud.' I looked up above my head and saw little birdies flying. A shadow came over me and I saw Evans worried face. He gently put his hands on my shoulders. _

"_Bart! Are you okay?" He asked. The little birdies disappeared and all I could see was Evans face. He kneeled down beside me and sat me up slowly. A small pain shot through my head but other than that I was fine._

"_Did you get the number of that latter that tipped over?" I asked. Evans face became one of relief then of worry. I looked over and saw the somehow the latter I was standing on had fallen over. And the sheers I was using to cut the low branch on the tree was a few feet away. _

_Evans helped me up and went to pick up the latter while I picked up the sheers. Out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw someone running away but I think it was just my mind playing tricks on me. _

"_This is like the third time this week you fell, or had something thrown on top of you," Evans commented. "Did you tick someone off kid?"_

_I turned back around to him and shrugged my shoulders. _

Shaking my head, I looked up and saw that it was Bob. He was glaring down at me, he still had his hands on my shoulders but it wasn't because he was nice like Evans. He lightly pushed me out of the way and started up the stairs.

"What are you doing Bob, I thought lunch was ready," I told him. He didn't even glance back at me; he just kept his steady pace up the stairs. He brushed shoulders with Tom and mumbled 'excuse me' but other than that didn't say a word. He just kept walking up to his room. Lisa looked down at me and then back up the stairs.

"What did you say Bart?" Lisa asked. Tom glanced between us with a confused look on his face. Lisa turned to him with a pleasant smile. "Tom why don't you go see if mom needs help."

With that signal he was out of our sights. Lisa gave me a venom like glare and waited for me to speak.

"Lisa, before you say anything I said nothing to the guy," I told her. She crosses her arms and gave me a look. "Okay, I did run into him but it wasn't on purpose."

Her look softened and she sighed.

"Bart I think you should apologize to Bob," she told me in a quiet tone. I could not believe what I was hearing. The only back up I had in the house was my sisters and now Lisa wanted me to go say I'm sorry to sideshow Bob, the guy who tried to kill me countless of times.

"Why in the hell should I say I'm sorry when I didn't do anything for once?" I whispered angrily. Lisa grabbed my hands in her and looked me in the eyes.

"I know you probably haven't noticed but for the last couple of days Bob hasn't been himself at all. It's strange but he doesn't seem happy at all and he keeps getting a lot of phone calls, I don't know what's going on but I think the least you can do for him is just be nice to him for a little bit, I know I'm asking a lot of you but please for once in your life consider someone else's feelings other than your own," she told me. She let go of my hands and went to the dining room.

I looked down at my hands not sure what to do. I stood at the bottom stair for a little bit and then looked up the stairs. I sighed and bowed my head in defeat; I swallowed my pride, with every stair I climbed. Finally I made it in front of Bob's door. It was closed, so I had a little bit of time to pull myself together. Before I knocked on the door though, I heard Bob's cell ring. The only reason I knew his ringer was because it was Beethoven's moonlight sonata and the whole family has been hearing that ring consent for the past couple of days.

I put my ear against the door and tried to listen to what was being said. At first all I heard was an angry murmur. It wasn't long before that quiet angry murmur turned into a full out yell.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

"What do you mean I can't see my own son?" I yelled into the phone, I tried to stay calm for the past couple of days but this was the end of the line. Her consent calling about the divorce papers and what not, things of that nature, I wish they would all just go to hell.

"I mean exactly what I said Bob, you can't see him anymore. Gino is my son too," Franchesca, my ex-wife told me with a cold voice. I took a big breath in and let it out, trying to calm myself as much as possible.

"I realize that he's your son as well Franchesca but I thought we talked about this before, that I would keep Gino with me and you would get to see him in the summer," I explained to her in the calmest voice I could produce, still my voice sounded rough and emotional, I didn't like it at all. I did not want to appear weak in front of this woman, even if it was over the phone.

"It has already been decided Bob, you can't do anything about it, Gino is over with my mother in Italy," she told me, still in her same cold voice.

"What do mean he's with your mother in Italy? Why isn't he with you and why in the hell are you not in Italy?" I asked her with an anger filled voice. I heard her sigh on the other end of the line. I could just picture her running a hand through her hair in attempts to calm herself.

"Because Bob if you recall I called you two days ago and told you that I had to pick up the divorces papers from your lawyer, he was being a real pain in the ass, so of course he wouldn't mail them, he told me to come get them so that's what I'm doing," she explained in a calm voice.

She seemed a little to robotic with reason for being overseas, like she rehearsed it or what not but it could also be because she took our son away from me behind my back and felt guilty about it. That was not the case most likely, she was probably just tired. I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose trying aggressively to calm myself but my attempts did nothing at all.

"Bob, you say you love our son but I have a feeling you love someone else even more…" she whispered, it was dark tone of voice.

"What in the world are talking about now?" I sighed. I could feel myself at the end of my rope of insanity and I could not take much more of her.

"If you have to ask then there is no point in continuing our discussion," she said. At that moment I heard something snap in my head.

"You call me for the past two days consent about if I signed that damn piece of paper, which by the way I have never been happier to practice my signature on a piece of paper, now you bring up love? What the hell is your angle? Do you want me to feel bad that I put Bart before you and the family?" I shouted. As I regained my composer all I heard on the other line was breathing.

"…Bob, you are a smart man but you are one of the biggest idiots I have ever met," Franchesca told me. After that I heard a click and that ended our conversation. I flipped my phone shut and threw it against the wall. It made a loud 'clank' sound. I ran my hands over my face and sat back down on the bed. I don't know how long I sat there on the bed I was brought out of my thoughts by someone knocking at my door.

I stood up, while walking over to the closed door I ran a hand through my droopy hair so that it had its spring back, tucked my shirt back in and tried to act like I didn't just didn't get stabbed in the back.

I opened the door and saw a plate of sandwiches that Marge was making earlier in the kitchen and a glass of wine. I looked around but didn't see anyone. As I picked it up, I half expected it to blow up in my face and Bart to spring out of nowhere laughing. I looked around once more before I closed my door behind me.

It wasn't until I sat back down that I noticed a little folded note under the sandwiches. I picked it up; it had my name written on it and instantly saw that it was Bart's hand writing. It dawned on me that I was rude to him and I would have to apologize to him later now. I gently opened the note and started to read.

Dear Bob,

_I guess I couldn't say I was sorry in person because I had no idea what I did wrong but I guess what I want to say that I am sorry._

_- Bart_

A smile pulled at the corner of my lips and I could not stop it. I didn't know if something was wrong with my eyes but I think that I saw that Bart had tried to erase something before his name. I shrugged it off and started to eat the sandwiches.

* * *

><p>POV: Bart<p>

I could not get that note out of my head for the rest of the day. Bob didn't come out of his room for the rest of the day either. I was worried about him and kept walking by his door on purpose several times, but it was never opened or even cracked.

I have no idea who he was talking to over the phone but hearing him yell like that and losing his cool just kind of made me more scared for my life, because if Bob could this upset about something like a phone call and lose his cool what am I suppose to do if I ever come face to face with the person who is trying to kill me.

'_Plus it felt like I was giving him a love note or something. Especially with me almost signing 'love Bart' at the end. What was I thinking? Oh well, at least I erased it. ' _I thought to myself with a sigh. Once again I thought of the love I almost put at the end and I could feel my cheeks heat up.

I hugged my pillow and burrowed my head into it. I looked down at Tom, who was sitting on the floor on top of his sleeping bag, and gave him a smile. He gave me one back and looked back at the book in his lap.

"So I guess you and Lisa hit it off," I told him, trying to get rid of the silence. He shrugged his shoulders. "I think she likes you."

"That's great Bart but I don't like girls like that, I thought you knew that," he said. I lightly pushed him and smirked.

"I know that man, I was just messing with you," I told him. He gave me a small smile and went back to his book. I sighed once again, which felt like the hundredth time that day. Tom shut his book and sat down on my bed.

"What's wrong Bart?" Tom asked me. I looked up at him and could see the worry in his warm brown eyes. I looked away from him and sat up so I could at least be a little closer to his eye level.

"I just don't know what to do about my feelings. I'm under stress because of this guy trying to kill me. The person who is suppose to be helping me, tried to kill me more times than I can count and he won't come out of his room," I told him with a rush of breath.

Tom looked at me and slowly put his arm around my shoulders, just like he did when he first got to my room that day. I leaned my head against his shoulder and for the first time realized how much bigger his shoulder was compared to mine. Tom softly rubbed my shoulder.

"Don't worry Bart, tomorrow will be better," he whispered. A small smile appeared on my face. I could feel my eyes start to close and sleep starting to take over.

"Thanks dude, you know exactly what to say," I yawned. Tom's grip on my shoulder seemed to tighten a little bit but that could have just been me. I closed my eyes and let my body relax. I snuggled against Tom and for a second thought that it was Patrick; I quickly got rid of that thought.

"Hey Tom," I whispered, almost asleep.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know…," I yawned before I could stop myself, "how it feels to think that you like someone but you're not ready to admit it yet…not even to yourself?" I asked.

* * *

><p>POV: Tom<p>

My body tensed up with Bart's question but like always I gave him an honest answer.

"Yes, I do," I told him. For a while all I could hear was his breathing, I thought he fell asleep but his sleepy little voice spoke up once more.

"Then, we're in the same boat man," he yawned. After a few minutes of him not saying anything, his breathing evened out, I looked down at him and saw he fell asleep. I smiled down at him in content. His sleeping face looked so peaceful and angelic.

I picked him up like someone would a brand new bride and laid him down on his bed. I looked down at his small form and pulled some of his soft spiky hair behind his ear. He rolled onto his side and I stepped away, afraid that I made had woken him up. After a few silent minutes, I let out a sigh and turned off the lights.

I lay down in my sleeping bag and looked up at Bart's sleeping face. I reached up with a shaky hand and almost touched his cheek but I stopped myself. Turning away from him and I tried to think about something else but Bart's question was still running through my head. I looked over one last time to look at Bart and saw he was bathed in the moon light and he looked stunning, turning away from him once again I pulled my sleeping bag over my head.

"I know exactly how you feel Bart, more then you know," I whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>So this is my first chapter, chapter eighteen. Please don't judge me too harshly about this chapter if you don't like it. I'm trying hard to stay with the story line, so please tell me your thoughts. And I know I have a different type of writing so don't judge, like I said before, harshly. <strong>

**Reviews are welcomed :)**


	19. Ch 19 Things Happen

**I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update, but life got in the way, which happens sometimes. Lol I hope that this chapter was worth the wait. Thank you all you for reading and reviewing this story. :)**

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

"Bart wake up." I heard someone call, waking me up from dreamless sleep, which was a welcomed thing, as long as I didn't have any more nightmares, about a certain someone. I opened my eyes slowly to see Tom's sleepy face, inches away from mine.

"Hey man, give me some space, you have morning breath," I told him jokingly. Tom's face grew apologetic as he gave me some space. I gave him a small smirk and gently punched his shoulder.

"I was just kidding," I told him. He seemed to loosen up after I told him that. He seemed to remember what he had woken me up for; Tom stood up and held out his hand to me.

"Come on Bessie your mom said she made pancakes," he informed me. I quickly got out of bed and raced for the stairs, Tom was right behind me and as we made to the dining room, everyone else was sitting down and eating their share of pancakes including Bob, who was out of his room to my surprise.

"Good morning Bart. Thomas." Bob told us. His velvet voice seemed to stand out even more to me for some reason, then I remembered the note from yesterday and that my face light up, even though I tried to stop it.

"Oh! Hey boys, pull up a chair, there is more pancakes coming," Mom called from the kitchen. Tom and I sat down across from Bob. I didn't know why but he didn't seem as dangerous or somethin. Tom squirmed in his seat, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Hey man, ease up, it's just my family," I told him. He looked at me and gave me a small smile. Something seemed off about him but that thought was forgotten when my mom came out with two plates of pancakes. She sat them down in front of us and went back to her seat at the table beside me.

"Thanks mom, I haven't had your pancakes in what seems like forever," I told her. She smiled and patted my knee under the table.

After breakfast which was fantastic, I had three helpings of mom's pancakes, Tom wanted to play some of my video games. We sat down on the couch and we started to play some of games Nelson had brought over a week or so ago.

Bob sat down in the love seat and just kind of observed us, which I still found unsettling, because Tom could bring up something from Tornstone. So I tried to keep the conversation, if any, away from that hell or school as other people call it.

"So Tom was your parents okay with you coming here, with the …situation and all," I asked him. Tom didn't take his eyes off the T.V. screen, I was worried he didn't hear my question.

"They didn't mind because I didn't tell them about the situation," he told me calmly.

"Really?" I was surprised by this, he normally was the goody goody with his parents as far as I could tell.

"Yup."

"Why? I thought you were the good child." Tom paused the game and ran a hand down his face. He sighed and looked at the floor.

"There are some things that I would never tell my parents," he whispered. Bob looked at Tom and I trying to figure out what was going, I would guess.

"What do you mean?" I asked him. He looked at me and sighed.

"I think of all people, you would understand Bart, after all you haven't told your parents about anything that happened in Tornstone," he told me in a whisper. I could feel my blood grow cold with fear.

'_Did someone tell him what happened between me and Patrick?' _I thought.

"I mean in all the letters you've sent me, you would never mention Bessie," he told me. My fears were calmed and I could feel the color come back to my face. Tome looked at me and grabbed my shoulders, "are you that ashamed of Bessie?"

All the fear I had and it was all for nothing, I could not help but laugh out loud.

"It isn't funny man," he told me, I could tell that was trying not to laugh.

"Yes it is, because the only reason I didn't mention Bessie is because I didn't have my partner to do any of the acts with," I told him, I smiled up at him, to see that he was blushing and that made me laugh even more.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

I did not know what to make of the scene I was seeing in front of me. Simpson was laughing like crazy and this friend, Thomas was sitting beside him, maybe just as lost as I was at the moment. Both boys kept bringing up a girl name Bessie. I raised an eyebrow at what I was seeing, but for some reason seeing the Simpson boy laugh so happily made my heart jump.

I blinked my eyes a couple of times to get rid of the thought. Thomas seemed a bit offended by Bart laughing but at the same time was trying not to laugh himself. Finally the Simpson boy stopped laughing and wiped away the tears in his eyes.

"Man, if you want to we can always put on an act for the family if you want," Bart told him, with a genuine smile. The beautiful features on his face seemed to stand out more when he smiled like that; once again, a ridiculous notion entered my mind.

"Do you really mean that Bart?" Thomas asked with hope lining his voice, Simpson nodded his head yes.

"We can have it in a few days in the living room, my whole family can come watch," Bart told him. Both lads left the room and headed up to Bart's room. I had not any idea of what those boys were doing but I didn't really feel like knowing either.

* * *

><p>No POV<p>

The next couple of days went by fast for Bart, he and Tom were both working on new material for Bessie. And so far they had an act of thirty minutes worked out, all that they had to do now was get some girl clothes.

"Where can we get the girl clothes at Bart?" Tom asked Bart, while he was working on his fake paper mustache. Bart turned away from the lines he was learning and gave Tom a look.

"I live in a house with four girls, I'm pretty sure we can come up with something," he told him. Bart turned back to his lines to fast to see a sad look past Tom's face. Tom had opened his mouth to say something when Bart beat him to it.

"You know, I think Lisa has an ugly dress we can borrow and some make up, Homer has a suit you can wear," he exclaimed excitedly. Tom smiled at him and shook his head, whatever he was going to say was going to have to be said at a later time.

"Hey Lis," Bart whispered through her door, he knocked softly and looked down both sides of the hallway before he opened his sister's door. Tom started to get a little worried.

"Do you think this is a good idea Bart?" He asked.

"Yup, I told you she's out with my mom and Josie," Bart told him as he opened her door all the way. He walked in casually like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Tom slowly followed in after him.

"Shut the door," Bart whispered. He quietly shut the door and Bart sighed in relief.

"Okay, now to find a butt ugly dress," Bart snickered. Tom looked back at the door and saw that there was a lock on it, unlike Bart's. Slowly so he wouldn't notice, Tom locked the door and stood in front of it. He was going to tell Bart, what he was meaning to tell him since he got there.

* * *

><p>POV: Bart<p>

I was looking through Lisa's closest for a dress I could use as Bessie, hopefully she wouldn't hate me, that was the last thing I wanted, unlike when I was younger.

"Bart…" I heard Tom say. I waved my hand back at him.

"Hold on Tom, I know I'm close to finding the prefect ugly dress," I told him.

"But Bart, I need to tell you something…" Tom whispered.

"Yeah, you can tell me in a sec," I said. I finally found an ugly mustered colored dress.

"Hey look what I fou..." I didn't have time to finish my sentence because Tom came up behind me and hugged me. The memory of what Patrick did came back at full force. My breathing became gasps.

"Were you scared Bart? When he held you like this?" Tom whispered. I tried to swallow the lump in your throat, when that didn't work, I bit down on my bottom lip and looked at the floor.

"W-what are you talking about Tom? You're s-sounding weird man," I tried to chuckle, but all that came out was a hollow sound. Tom's grip became tighter around my waist and the next thing I knew, he was laying on top of me on Lisa's bed.

I looked up at Tom in shock. He looked back down at me with a look, like Patrick use to give me except his was sadder. I was frozen in fear, it was like I could not control my body. Tom pinned my arms above my head and sat on my legs so I could not get away.

"Did it scare you when he use to take you to his bed and do whatever he wanted to you?" Tom asked me, but it didn't sound like him, he sounded more angrier and he would not look me in the eyes.

"W-what are you talkin..."

"Don't you dare ask what I'm talking about Bart! I know what Patrick did to you through the years at the hell and what he almost did…" Tom whispered, this time he was looking me in the eyes and I could tell he was holding back trying not to cry. I could feel tears brim in my eyes.

"H-how did you know?" I asked. Tom just looked at me for a second then shock his head.

"Bart do you honestly think that I could not see what was going on, I would wake up at night and you wouldn't be in your bed, there were times when I actually watched Patrick carry you to his room. One day I told him to stop doing that to you, but he just put a pocket knife to my throat and told me not to tell anyone and not to ever bring it up again…so I didn't."

Tom stopped talking and looked down at me, his tears falling freely onto my face. He let go of my arms and pulled me close, my arms were frozen above my head.

"I'm so sorry Bart, I knew what was happening, yet I didn't do anything about it, I am so sorry!" He cried into my neck, I didn't know what to do, I was still so scared. He stopped crying after a few minutes and looked me in the eyes. Before I could even say anything, he kissed me, full on the lips. That's when I regained my body.

I tried to push him off but that only seem to make him kiss me harder. He finally stopped kissing me on the lips and kissed down my neck, I tried to push him off again.

"Please stop…Tom…" I meant to scream but it came out as a whisper.

"Did you hate it when he would kiss your neck?" Tom whispered and continued to kiss my neck. I didn't know how to respond so I just kept trying to push him off.

'_When did he get this strong?' _I yelled in my head.

While trying to push Tom off, one of his hands glided down my body to my clothed erection. I gasped in surprised and shivered. I hadn't felt the touch of another guy in so long that I could not help my body's response.

"Did it make you feel gross when he touched you here," Tom whispered into my ear. I tried not to moan when he started rubbing faster, thankfully he stopped before I came and cupped my face in both his hands.

His watery brown eyes burrowed into my pale ones.

"His friends told me what he almost did, when I heard that I became so angry and sad that I promised myself the next time I saw you I would let you know just how felt," he whispered. His face inched closer to mine and I could feel my eyes grow bigger.

"I love you Bart, I've loved you since the moment I met you," he told me and gently pressed his lips against mind. I gained all my strength all in my arms and tried to push him off again, this time it worked and I ran for the door.

I unlocked the door and threw it open. I didn't know where I was running all that I knew was that I was getting out of that house. I was about to run down the stairs when Maggie caught my sleeve and looked up at me with a worried look.

"Big brother, what's wrong?" She asked. I could feel my tears trying to escape, so I pulled away from her and ran down the stairs and out the door, I heard both her and Tom yell after me. I ran past Flanders down the block and past the Kwik-E-Mart to an abandoned park. I crawled into a covered slide and curled into a little ball, trying to just disappear.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

I was in the living room when I heard someone run down the stairs and throw open the front door with a big 'bang!' I jumped a little at the sound and put the book I was reading on the table next to the table. The next thing I heard was both Thomas and Maggie was yelling Bart's name, that's when I realized something was wrong.

I ran into the front room and looked up at the second story up at Maggie and Thomas.

"What happened?" I asked them sternly. Maggie shrugged and looked up at Thomas, he looked back at her and I saw his Addams apple move as he gulped.

"I told him some things that he probably didn't want to hear," he told me. I beckoned him down and he walked down the stairs slowly. I guided him to the table and sat down next to him.

"Please explain Thomas, thoroughly and quickly, if you don't mind," I told him. Thomas shook his head no, I could feel my temper get the best of me.

"I can't…its not my story to tell its Bart's," He whispered, he glanced up at me but kept staring at the floor. I could tell that there was something that he did not want to tell me. I growled in annoyance and stood up.

"Fine, but I have to find Bart before the killer does," I told Thomas, as I walked towards the door.

"Wait!" I turned to him and sighed.

"Now what?"

"Please let me help search for him," he pleaded. Sighing again for the umpteenth time.

"Fine, just hurry!" I yelled. I ran down the sidewalk past Ned Flanders and kept going.

'_I know that boy to well to not know where he would be hiding.' _I thought to myself.

For some reason my fear of the killer finding him first was becoming too much to bare, so I picked up the pace.

* * *

><p>No POV<p>

The killer had followed Bart out of his house and saw where he hid. The killer saw that the boy was crying and looked miserable, so the killer decided to just wait until he was done crying, so much fun to wait to kill a prey when their already down.

The killer chuckled to themselves. After a short period the boy finally stopped crying, with no one in sight the killer started walking over the playground to kill Bart Simpson!

* * *

><p><strong>Like I said at the beginning I hope that this chapter was worth the wait. Review? :)<strong>


	20. Ch 20 So Close

**I hope that everyone liked the last chapter and I promise that I am going to try to update at least twice a month if possible. I can't wait for this story to really take off. Lol Well enough of me talking on with the story. :)**

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><p>No POV<p>

The killer inched themselves closer and closer to the playground, they could practically hear Bart's shouts of pain already, just when the killer reached in for the gun in their pocket, the sound of someone yelling Bart's name echoed through the air. The killer quickly hid themselves behind the closest tree and waited to see what happened next.

Bob was running towards the playground, as fast as his big feet could carry him. He slowed down when he reached the out skirts of it and looked around. Bob did not see the killer anywhere so he sighed in relief. He caught his breath and started to look around for Bart.

"Simpson, are you here?" He called. Bob did not have any firm evidence that Bart was even hiding there but something in his gut just told him that he was getting close.

* * *

><p>POV: Bart<p>

I tried to ignore Bob who was calling my name, I just tried to get myself higher in the slide so he could not find me. But my foot slipped and I slid down the slide to the muddy ground, it had rained the day before the mud hadn't hardened yet.

As soon as my butt hit the ground, I was a mess. There was a layer of mud that coated me.

"Gross…" I mumbled. I sighed and just sat there, staring at the grass, feeling sorry for myself. The next thing I saw was Bob's huge feet in front of me.

"Are you okay Bart?" He asked me with his velvet soft voice. I could feel tears start to come back to my eyes. I looked up at him and for a second, I thought he looked concern, I shook my head and closed my eyes tightly.

"No…not really," I whispered. Bob crouched down and held out his hand.

"Let's get you home Simpson," he calmly told me. I looked up at him and saw that he didn't look as annoyed like I expected and he looked, but dare I say it, he looked a little… worried. I nodded my head and was about to take his clean hand with my dirty one, when I saw my killer right behind him, aiming for Bob's head.

My eyes grew big and before he could even ask, I jumped on top of Bob, tackling him to the ground when the killer pulled the trigger. All that I could hear was a loud bang and a pain shoot through my left arm. I winced in pain and held my hand over where I thought I was shot.

"Bart!" I heard someone yell, it could have been Bob but I thought it sounded like Tom, I didn't know who it was because my world became dark.

Hours later, at the hospital-

POV: Bart

My world was still dark when I woke back up, that's probably because I hadn't opened my eyes yet, when I tried to open them, the light so blinding I had to cover my eyes before I opened them again. After adjusting to the light, I looked around and saw that I was in a white hospital room.

No one else was in the room with me, which made me feel calm and anxious. I licked my lips, preparing to yell but all that came out was a weak whisper.

"Mom…Homer…"

Mom looked into the room not a second later and when she saw I was awake, tears ran down her face. She sprinted to my side and held me close.

"Oh my baby boy! I'm so glad you're awake!" Mom cried into my good shoulder. I tried my best to pat her back but it was a little awkward. Homer was the next to come into the room along with Maggie, and Lisa carrying Josie, they all just softly smiled at me.

"Where's Tom and Bob?" I whispered. Mom backed away from me and gave me a teary smile.

"Bob ran after the shooter or your killer and Tom is out there in the hallway, he seems to be nervous about something," Mom told me shrugging her shoulders. I laid against my bed again and gave her a small smile.

"Do you think that Tom and I could talk alone for a moment?" I asked. Mom got up off my bed and headed for the door.

"Anything you want sweetie and when Bob gets here, we'll send him, is that okay?" She asked.

"Sure."

"Okay, just rest up sweet heart."

"I will mom."

Mom pushed everyone out of the room and a few minutes later Tom walked in with his head hangin' low, with his hands together in front.

"Hey man," I whispered. Tom glanced up at me and nodded his head. I chuckled at him, he acted the same way when we first met.

_Five years earlier-_

_The opening ceremony for Tornstone was long and boring. I sat in an auditorium with no air, so all that I could smell was sweat and the other guys' bad breath. Finally when it was over I went to go look around my new jail or school. _

_On my way up a first flight of stairs, there was a kid that reminded me of Millhouse, except he didn't have blue hair. I walked over to him and he flinched a little bit like I was going to hit him. _

"_Hey man, I'm not going to hurt you," I told him. He glanced up at me nervously and nodded his head. I put my hand out for him to shake it. "My name is Bart, what's your name?" _

_He looked at my hand and then back at me, slowly and cautiously he shook my hand. _

"_My name is Tom," he mumbled. _

I shook my head trying to get rid of that memory.

"Why don't you sit closer? You can sit on my bed if you want," I told him. Tom looked up at me. He noticed the chair next to the far wall and sat down. I sighed in annoyance in how he was acting.

"Dude, what's wrong? I'm the one in the hospital," I told him jokingly. He glanced up at me and sighed. He mumbled something but I could not make out what he was saying.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I attacked you…" He mumbled again but this time louder.

"You did not attack me, you were just trying to get your feelings through to me," I told him. Tom shook his head.

"NO! I did attack you. I'm not any better than Patrick," he yelled in a whisper. I shook my head and sighed.

"Okay, listen man, if you don't come over here, I will get out of this fucking bed and come get you," I warned him. Tom looked up at me and held my gaze for the first time since he had been in there, he sighed in defeat. He got up and came sat on my bed.

"There, see isn't that better," I smiled. He gave me a small smile, that smile quickly faded though and there was a silence in the room.

"I am sorry Bart, I didn't know what came over me," Tom whispered. I patted his shoulder with the hand I didn't have in a sling and smirked.

"Don't worry about it Tom, I know you didn't mean to hurt me and I'm somewhat glad that someone other than me knows about what happened, that means that it really did happen…" I whispered.

* * *

><p>No POV<p>

Tom reached out for Bart's hand and covered it with both of his.

"I meant what I said Bart, I've loved you since the moment I met you," he told him in a soft gentle voice. Bart looked at him with his wide pale blue eyes. Tom chuckled. "Why do you think I acted the way I did when you first talked to me?"

"Honestly because I thought you thought I was going to hurt you," Bart explained. Tom full out laughed at that. Bart pouted a little bit and tried to get his hand out of Tom's. Slowly Tom stopped laughing and kept holding Bart's hand and with his other he reached out and softly touched Bart's cheek.

"It wasn't that at all, it was because I was thinking, 'wow, that guy is so beautiful.' I've loved you Bart, for a long, long time," Tom smiled. Bart's eyes seemed to be the same size as dinner plates and Tom found that endearing.

Tom took his hand back away from Bart's cheek and sighed.

"W-what is it Tom?" Bart whispered, trying to process what he was hearing from his best friend.

"Well…to tell you the truth Bart…I wanted to ask you…I hate to ask though…how…um…how do you feel about me?" Tom asked nervously. Bart could feel his face light up from blushing.

"Well…you see…"

"Bart, you don't have to answer right now," Tom softly told him with a smile. Bart sighed in relief, before he could say anything else Tom leaned forward and kissed Bart's forehead. He leaned back and gave him a smirk. "But I can't wait forever."

Neither Bart nor Tom knew that right outside the door was Nelson listening to their every word. He didn't know what to do so he just stood there trying to understand what the hell they were talking about.

'_Guys can't like other guys, that's wrong and sick…but why do I feel so mush hatred for that gay wad when he told Bart he loved him.' _Nelson thought to himself. He turned his hands into fists and held them tightly, trying not to lose his temper.

'_Why didn't Bart punch him or somethin' or tell him that he's not gay?' _Nelson shouted in his head. _'The only reason I came to this place was to see if Bart was doing okay, what should I do?' _

That question was answer when sideshow Bob walked into the waiting area. Nelson was not in the mood to deal with that clown so he just stuffed his hands into his pockets and left without a word to anyone.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

I walked in right when that ruffian, Bart associated with was leaving. Margaret saw me walk into the waiting area and the hopeful look on her face was dashed away when I shook my head, she did not even have to form her question into words, I knew what she was going to ask.

I sat down across from the family of Simpson, each one dealing with what had happened in a different way. Homer was 'secretly' taking hits from a hidden flask in his own bible. Marge was babying Josie. Lisa was doing some kind of homework and Margaret just stared at me waiting for me to say anything, even though I already answered her silent question.

None of the Simpson's seemed to even notice I was there except for Margaret. I gestured her to follow me over to another area. I stood up and she was right on my tail. We stopped a little farther away from her family and Bart's hospital room.

"So you didn't find out who shot Bart?" Ms. Simpson asked me straight to the point, a quality that was admirable. Shaking my head I looked the second youngest Simpson in the eyes.

"Ms. Simpson, I will level with you, considering you're the one Simpson that understands the King's English," I told her, she smirked at me and waited for me to speak. "I was close to finding out who it was but right before I could reveal the culprit, a black vehicle drove by and the person jumped into the passenger seat."

"So what does that prove?" The young Simpson asked. I looked down at her and sighed at how oblivious she could be.

"I've figured out two important things, whoever the killer is, they are working with someone else and the other thing is that Bart was the one who shielded me from being shot, so I am also a target for whomever these people are, for some unknown reason."

Maggie looked up at me with a blank face and spoke up.

"So mainly the only thing you haven't figured out is, what is the killer or killers' angle, correct?" Ms. Simpson asked.

"Why yes, that is one of the many puzzle pieces that are missing," I explained to her. She gave me a confused look and tilted her head to the side, she looked a lot her Bart when she did that, I tried to act like I didn't just think that.

"What else is missing in the puzzle?"

I paced in front of her and rubbed my chin, trying to figure out a way to explain it to her.

"There is something about Bart's past that I don't know, I was close to getting it out of his friend Thomas but he told me that it was Bart's story to tell, so he also has something that he doesn't anyone else to know about… but how do all these connect is the question," I told her, trying to figure it out in my own mind.

"Why don't you just ask my brother?" Ms. Simpson asked, like it was the simplest thing in the world. I looked down at her innocent look and rolled my eyes.

"Don't you think I tried Ms. Simpson, but whenever I bring up Tornstone he always finds a way to slip out of my grasp, it gets tiring after a while believe it or not," I told her, trying to make her understand. I looked down at her and noticed that she was just smiling up at me.

"Mr. Terwilliger, it's easier than what you're making it," she told me simply. I sighed and kneeled down so I was on her level.

"What do you suggest I do then, Ms. Simpson?" I asked, at the end of my rope.

"Talk to my brother, show him that you actually enjoy being around him."

"But I don't enjoy being around that little devil!"

"See that's what I'm talking about, you need to show him that you care about him, if just a little bit, you need to be more open," Ms. Simpson explained. I ran a hand down my face in annoyance.

"Why do you think that would work?" I asked. She smiled at me and held my large hand in both her small tiny ones.

"Because in some weird cosmic way, you're both friends, even if you both don't realize it, besides the more Bart trusts someone the easier it is for that person to get to know the real Bart." Ms. Simpson told me. She let go of my hand and started to walk back to her family, I stood up and stretched. Before she got too far she ran back to me and beckoned me to bend down. Once again I did and she cupped her small hands around my ear.

"Make sure you don't fall in love with him." Ms. Simpson whispered. I didn't know for a fact but I think I lost my composer for a second or two, I quickly regained it and stood up flabbergasted. Margaret giggled and ran back to her family.

'_How on earth did the Simpson's need up with such odd children?' _I pondered to myself, just as Homer took a big gulp from his 'bible'. I shook my head and started to walk towards Bart's room to ask him some questions and maybe this time he would answer.

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><p><strong>I hope that this chapter wasn't bad, because while I was writing it I kept deleting and writing different stuff, so hopefully this came together fine. I did not mean to offend anyone with the gay wad remark but it seemed like something Nelson would say, so please know no offence to anyone. Oh and I've always wanted to write something where Maggie and Bob had like a weird friendship, so I decided to add that to this story. Review? :)<strong>


	21. Ch 21 Progress

POV: Bart

The atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten up a little bit after Tom and I had a chance to talk. We talked about how the school was doing without Bessie being there. The strange part is that I kind of missed that hell hole, because back then I wasn't going to die. I was just a kid it seemed like, with a few things that went wrong but nothing really seemed to be as stressed.

There was a soft knock on the door, Tom and I both looked up at the same time to see sideshow Bob standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me Thomas, but may I have alone time with Bart?" He asked while slowly walking into the room, in his own way telling Tom to leave, either way Bob was going to get his way. Tom nodded without saying a word; he gave my hand a light squeeze and an encouraging smile. He slowly walked out of the room, glancing back at me a few times.

Bob looked at the doorway for a second or two before closing the door and sitting down where Tom had been sitting. I crossed my arms and gave him a look, telling him that I really didn't want him there. Bob cleared his throat and began.

"Well Bart, I was hoping that we could have time to talk alone," he told me calmly. I looked out the window trying to act like he wasn't there. Bob grunted at my actions and stood up.

"Bart Simpson, will please stop acting like child and talk to me. I know I'm the last person you want helping you but I'm all you have, so get your head out of your ass and listen to what I have to say," he yelled harshly. I turned back toward him, slouching, with my arms crossed.

"Okay… I'm willing to listen until I think you talking bullshit, is that okay with you BOB?" I asked him rudely. Bob just looked me in the eyes and didn't say anything for a while.

"Are you quite finished?" He asked me with a pointed voice. I tried not to act surprise by his response because I was expecting him to get pissed and leave the room. I loosened up a little bit but did not once lower my guard. After all this guy tried more than once to kill me, Bob sat back down and rubbed his temples.

"So Bart I did find out something interesting about your killer or should I say killers." He told me in his soothingly dark voice. It didn't really hit me what he said until a few seconds later. I could feel the color fade from my face.

"W-what are you saying? I have more than one person to worry about now? What the hell did I do to have people want to kill me?" I shouted loudly. Bob looked at me with a look of pure irritation, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Bart you are still so naïve it's not even funny. If you recall, I have tried to kill you more times than you can count. So I must ask you Bart Simpson, have you ruined anyone's plans or ruin someone's life?" Bob asked me with the most serious expression I have ever seen on his face. I felt myself almost trusting him but I caught myself. I shook my head no to his question and just sat there, not sure if I could talk. Bob let his head hang in frustration.

"Bart I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth," he whispered and looked up at me through his clownish hair. No thoughts passed through my mind, I just sat there like a deer in head lights. I didn't want to tell Bob about Patrick or Evans. I didn't want to think about either of them being a bad person like this.

"…Bart? Are you okay?" Bob asked. I looked up and saw Evans was hovering above me. I blinked my eyes a few times and Evans turned into Bob. I rubbed my head and closed my eyes tight.

"I don't know if I'm okay or not Bob…" I whispered. I covered my eyes with my arms and kept my eyes closed tightly.

'_I don't want Bob to disappear too.' _I thought in my head.

That thought made me open eyes in an instant. Bob was no longer hovering over my bed in fact he wasn't even in the room anymore. Instead of feeling relieved about him not being anywhere near me it just made me afraid that he really did disappear. I don't know why I felt this way but I did not like it in the least.

I was about to get out of bed to go look for him when his hair poked through the door frame with a nurse right behind him. She was a fairly young woman with a worried look on her face. She pushed past him and ran to my side.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked me in a sweet voice. I just looked at her not knowing what to say. My ears started to ring and my eyes drifted up to Bob's face and for the first time since I met him I can honestly say that he looked concern.

"I'm scared…" I don't know if I said it out loud or if I just thought it, all that I know is that I closed my eyes to greet the darkness of unconsciousness again.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

Bart looked me straight in the eyes with pure fear and whispered almost silently.

"I'm scared…" His eyes closed and his body laid perfectly still. I felt my heart stop beating for a second, I thought he died. And for some reason this thought scared me more than I think it should have. The young nurse that I caught in the hallway ran out of room, probably going to get the doctor.

I quickly put my fingers to Bart's throat to make sure that he had pulse, thank God he did. I sat back down in the uncomfortable chair next to Bart's bed and just watched his chest raise and fall with every breath he took. For some odd reason it soothed me. I really didn't know what else to do at that point. The nurse came back in with Dr. Hibert. He hadn't aged since the last time I saw him except that he had a little more belly and a little less hair.

"Hehehe let's see what we have here," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes, I highly doubt right now is a good time for a chuckle. He walked over to Bart with a serious look and checked his heart, his blood pressure, he looked at Bart's charts and where he had been shot. Dr. Hibert walked over to me without chuckling.

"Will you please follow me to the waiting room Bob?" he asked me. I nodded and walked right behind him to where Thomas was waiting to hear any news about Bart, his family must have something better to do then hear about how their one and only son is doing, I could feel my temper starting to show its ugly head.

"Where did the Simpson's family go?" Dr. Hibert asked him. Thomas looked up at both myself and Dr. Herbert and cleared his throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Simpson went home with Lisa, Maggie and Josie, I guess they had stuff to do," he mumbled. I pinched the bridges of my nose again to keep my temper in check. Dr. Hibert sighed and ran a hand through his already thinning hair. The doctor looked over at me and sighed again.

"Considering you're the only adult here I guess I have to tell you his condition," he told me without a chuckle. Him not chuckling was starting to annoy me as much as him chuckling all the time. We walked away from Thomas and stood in front of Bart's room.

"Bart is doing fine, it's just that right now he can't be under any stress right now or it could make him have an episode. And what I mean by episode is that he could see or hear things that aren't really there. Considering his family didn't stay to even hear about how he's doing and with this murderer after him I don't think it's wise that he stays around here." He told me.

"What do you suggest I do doctor?" I asked, trying to sound like I did not care in the least. The doctor only shrugged his shoulders at my question.

"I honestly don't know Bob but you are a genius you'll come up with something, hehehe," he chuckled. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him and just shook his hand like any other person that didn't really want to punch him in the face.

"Thank you for the advice Dr. Hibert and I will try my best to find a suitable place where Bart will be safe and sound," I smiled my gentlemen's smile and walked the other way back to the waiting room, where Thomas was still sitting in one of those God awful chairs waiting I suppose news or myself.

"Thomas," I called. He looked up at me with a startled expression. I walked over to him and sat down in the chair beside his.

"Are the Simpson's coming back for you or do you need a ride?" I asked him. Thomas looked down at his hands and twirled his thumbs, he was to easy to read. "Just by the look on your face, I can tell you don't have a ride home."

"Y-yes…your right, I do need a ride back to Bart's house," he mumbled. I stood up and got my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed the only person who could help me right now. The phone rang only once before he picked up.

"This is Krusty, who's this?" He asked in his raspy voice.

"Hello Krusty, this is your Television partner," I told him. It took him a second to understand what I just said.

"Oh Bob it's you, at first I thought you were fat Tony, you know how I am with gambling," he laughed nervously. I rolled my eyes at him and was about to say something to him about his addiction when I remembered why I called him in the first place.

"Please Krusty I did not call to hear about your gambling problem," I said to him, I was at the end of rope with patience. "I called to ask you to come pick my friend and I up from the Springfield hospital."

"Okay Bob, I'll be there in a few with the limo, just wait outside for us," he told me.

"Okay, thank you Krusty."

"No problem Bob, see you in a few."

I turned back to Thomas to see that he had a confused look on his face.

"Come on Thomas, I have a ride that will be here in a few minutes," I told him. Thomas just nodded his head and followed me out to the front of the hospital. While we sat together on a bench outside he kept glancing over at me.

"If you have a question, just ask it so I don't have to see you glance over at me every five seconds," I told him, it sounded kind of harsh but I was losing my patience with everyone.

"Did you really try to kill Bart many times?" he asked me. I looked down at him and sighed.

"It's a dark part of my past that I would really not like to revisit but since you asked I will tell you, I did try on many occasion on trying to kill Bart, I blamed him for all the horrible things that happened in my life," I told him, I didn't mean to say so much but it was easy to forget who you're talking to when a person is so quiet.

"Why did you stop trying to kill him?" Thomas asked.

"You know, I think that's a story for another day," I told him. Thomas seemed to shrink back into the bench. The limo pulled up a few minutes later. I opened up the back seat to find that Krusty was not there, not that that really disappointed me. I gestured Thomas into the limo and I followed in behind him.

The ride to the Simpson's house was quiet. The limo stopped in front of Bart's house and for a second Thomas just sat there. I thought I would have to make him get out but thankfully he opened his door and got out himself. He leaned back into the limo and whispered.

"I hope that you know what you're doing because if Bart gets hurt in any way I will be there to make sure you pay for it, I promise you that."

With that statement he closed the limo door harshly and walked up the Simpson's house hold.

"Why in the world does everybody find it amusing to threaten me when I am only trying to help?" I asked out loud. The limo driver rolled down his window and looked back at me.

"Sir, I only had orders to go the hospital to here, where do you want me to go?" He asked. I thought about it for a second when what Dr. Hibert said to me popped into my head.

'_Bart is doing fine, it's just that right now he can't be under any stress or it could make him have an episode. And what I mean by episode is that he could see or hear things that aren't really there. Considering his family didn't stay to even hear about how he's doing and with this murderer after him I don't think it's wise that he stays around here.'_

"Good man, could please drive me to Krusty's?" I asked. The driver only nodded his head and rolled his window back up. I rested my cheek against my hand and just thought about things that were to come. Hopefully everything would work out and if not then I would have people after me.

'_Hopefully Krusty will let me use his summer house for a little while.' _I thought to myself.


	22. Ch 22 Promises

POV: Bob

The limo pulled up to Krusty's mansion and I sat patiently as the driver came around and opened my door. I thanked the man and started to head inside. I walked on in before one of Krusty's servants could open the door but I didn't get to far before a young maid came up and asked me where I would like to go.

"I would like to talk to Krusty, if you don't mind showing me where he is?" I asked with a charming smile. The young woman blushed at me and gave me an equally sweet smile.

"Of course Mr. Terwilliger, if you will follow me sir." She told me politely. I nodded my head and followed her to the den where Krusty was sitting in a comfy looking couch watching television. I smiled at the young woman, thanked her with a kiss on the hand and went to sit by my old friend.

"Hello Krusty," I told him while I sat down beside him. He seemed to be startled but when he realized it was me he just laughed and turned off the television, he knew how much I hated that brain numbing box.

"Hey Bob, what can I do for you?" He asked me.

"Well Krusty since you asked I was wondering if I could borrow your summer home for a little while." I told him, straight to the point, I didn't have time to tip toe around the situation. Krusty gave me a puzzled look.

"Well…sure Bob, no problem but why do you need to use my summer home, you have one of your own." He stated calmly. Sitting with Krusty it was noticeable more than ever how much Krusty had grown from the selfish, greedy person he was, to a calm, generous person he is now.

I sat back into his couch and rubbed my forehead.

"Krusty I will level with you. Do you remember Bart Simpson?" I asked him. Krusty nodded and waited for me to continue. "I am helping him figure out who is trying to kill him. I am sure you have heard about it. For the time being Bart is in the hospital and he cannot be around any kind of stress or it could kill him. And just in case this killer or killers I should say should find out where my summer home or any of my places are Bart and I could be in danger. Please Krusty, as your friend I really need your help."

Krusty just looked at me, trying to soak in what I had just told him. He sighed and ran a hand through his thinned out hair. He looked at me and gave me the most serious look I have ever received from him.

"I will let you borrow my summer house, only if you promise me two things." He told me, holding up two fingers.

"Anything Krusty, I'll promise you anything." I told him.

"I don't want this getting back to me or my family and friends. If these killers find you, you are to tell them that I don't know that I know that you are using my summer home. And two, you are not to lay one finger on Bart Simpson." He told me. I almost felt my jaw drop at the second request. I stood straight up and glared down at him.

"How dare you think I would try to kill Bart Simpson! I thought we both agreed that I was far past who I use to be!" I whispered angrily. Krusty shook his head and sighed once again.

"I didn't mean it like that Bob," he whispered. I gave him a confused look and sat back down.

"What did you mean then?" I asked him calmly.

Krusty looked me straight in the eyes for a few seconds and smirked.

"I guess you don't realize what I'm talking about yet," Krusty whispered. Before I could ask him what he meant he looked back at me with the same serious expression from early. "Just promise me these two things Bob and I will let you stay there as long as you both need to."

"Okay as long as you promise me three things," I told him. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Oh really and what might those be?" He asked. I pondered on it only for a second.

"I want the summer house to be ready by tomorrow. I need to get Bart out of here as soon as possible, second I want you to promise that no servants will be in the house, that way if anybody does come snooping it will be easier for Bart and I to hide us being there. Third I don't want anybody to know that we are there, promise you won't tell soul, except your servants."

I raised my hand and put it towards him for a gentlemen's hand shake, I was still not sure what he meant by the second promise I had to make but I would not let Bart die on my watch. Krusty looked at me hand and then to me.

"I Bob Terwilliger promise you, Krusty, that I will not let the killers know that you know that I am using your summer house and I also promise not to lay one finger on Bart Simpson," I promised, I waited for him to take my hand and shake it. Slowly Krusty shook my hand and smiled.

"Okay it's a promise, and I promise to get my summer home ready for you and Bart by tomorrow and that no servants will be there and other then myself and the servants helping no one will know where you're both at," he promised. He snapped his fingers and five different maids appeared, including the young woman who I saw earlier.

Krusty stood up and walked over to them with his hands behind his back, he always did this when he was deep in thought. He paced in front of them and finally came to a stop.

"Okay girlies, we have to get my summer house ready for tomorrow, Mr. Terwilliger will be using it so I want at least one-third of my staff to get over there and get things ready, I want one of you to tell the limo driver to come see me as soon as possible and under any circumstances I do not want any of you over there while Mr. Terwilliger and do not tell a soul about this, tell everyone that isn't here the same thing, okay that is all. Jump to your jobs," he told them. He snapped his fingers once more and they all scattered like mice.

"Didn't know you had that in you Krusty, never seen you so posed," I smiled, trying not to laugh. Before he could say anything, his limo driver walked into the room.

"You wanted to see me?" He asked.

"Yes I did, tonight I want you to drive Mr. Terwilliger wherever he needs to go and tomorrow you are to pick up Mr. Terwilliger at the hospital, there will be a young man with him so please be polite to him and then I want you to drive both of them to the airport and make sure that the are escorted to my private jet, do you understand?" Krusty asked the young lad.

"Yes sir, I do," he told him. Krusty smiled at him and put a twenty dollar bill in his jacket pocket.

"There you go, a little something for you and if you do this right you will get a raise," Krusty told him. The lad grinned and walked out of the room.

"I'm still a softy when it comes to kids," Krusty chuckled. I walked over to him and gave me old friend a hug, he returned it and we both stepped back.

"Thank you Krusty, this means a lot to me, I hope that someday I will be able to return the favor," I told him. Krusty smirked and started walking towards the front door, I followed right behind him.

"You already did Bob, you saved my television career and my life," he whispered. I looked over at him with a surprised look.

"Come now Krusty, I did no such thing," I told him. Krusty just shook his head and smiled. We didn't speak again while he was walking me out. We got to the door and he opened it for me.

"Thank you again Krusty for everything you have done for me," I smiled. Krusty just patted my shoulder.

"It's no trouble, now go take care of that kid, it seems like you're the only one that really wants to," he told me. I was caught off guard by that statement but before I could him what he meant he closed his door. I looked back at Krusty's mansion knowing that I would not get anything out of him, so I just walked to the limo.

The lad was waiting by the door and opened it for me when he saw me.

"Where would you like to go first?" He asked me with a smile. I thought about it for a second and then told him to take me to the Simpson's house. He only smiled once more and closed the door behind me.

The drive there seemed to take nothing more than a blink of an eye. I must have been too caught up in thought. The young man opened the door and I walked up to the Simpson's house. I knocked on the door; it didn't take long for someone to answer. Young Margaret Simpson stood at the entrance looking up at me.

"Hello Ms. Simpson, how are you this evening?" I asked with a gentlemen's smile. Ms. Simpson crossed her arms and gave me a look.

"I'm fine, what about you Bob have you figured anything out?" she asked me.

"Why yes I have but I would prefer to talk about this inside," I told her. She seemed to understand what I was talking about because she stepped aside so I could come in. She closed the door behind me and looked up at me.

"If you are looking for my parents they are in the living room," she told me. I nodded at her and walked towards the living room, while, Ms. Simpson ran upstairs. I found Mr. and Mrs. Simpson sitting on the couch.

"Good evening," I told them, they both looked up at me with surprise.

"Good evening to you too Bob, would you like to sit down?" Mrs. Simpson asked.

"Yes I would," I told her while sitting down in the red chair beside the couch. It was silent only for a few seconds before Mrs. Simpson spoke up.

"I'm so sorry we left Bart a lone like that but Josie was getting sleepy and we had to get home," she explained. I just looked at her not sure if I should try to calm her guilty conscience or just let her think about what she had done. I sighed and shook my head.

"Don't worry about it Marge, Bart just fainted because he was under to much stress," I told her straight forward. Tears appeared in her eyes and she covered her face.

"My poor baby...I left him there alone," she cried. Homer rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.

"It's okay Marge, Bart is okay, and he only fainted while you weren't there, that doesn't mean anything," he told her with a soft smile. That statement only made her cry worst. I cleared my throat hoping to get their attention, thankfully it did.

"Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, if I may, I may have away so that he will be safe for the time being." From there I told them about Krusty's summer home and how nobody knows where it is.

"May we know where it is?" Marge asked me with teary eyes.

"I'm afraid not, it would be safer for nobody to know where we will be going, Bart and I will be leaving early to tomorrow morning on Krusty's private jet, if you want to say good bye it will have to be tomorrow morning, so please don't be worried about him, I will do everything within my power to make sure that Bart is safe," I told them. Marge just nodded her head and ran upstairs crying. Homer followed right behind her. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

I got up to see myself out but someone stood in the way of me leaving. Margaret just looked up at me with the same look she gave to me earlier.

"Before you leave Bob, I think you should take a few things of my brothers with you," she told me while holding out a satchel. It must have been heavy because she could not lift it off the floor. I reached for it but she took it away at the last second.

"Not so fast Mr. Terwilliger, I want you to promise me that you will not look at my brother's things, these are the only things that are actually still his and I don't want you to look at them, do you promise?" She asked.

'_What is with people today and promises?' _I asked myself. None the less I took her small hand in mine and kissed her hand.

"I give you the promise of a gentleman that I will not look through his things." I told her, this made her give me a weak smile. She handed me the satchel and I was right, this bag was indeed quite heavy. "Are you sure you didn't just pack his room in here?"

"Well that's all that was in his room, closest and all, it's kind of sad if you think about it," Margaret told me with a sad smile. I bent down so I was on her level and gave her a hug.

"I promise I will watch over your brother," I whispered in her ear. Without another word I left with the heavy satchel. I could not look back at that little girl because for some reason I had feeling her little heart was breaking for her big brother.

* * *

><p><strong>The next chapter I'm writing now will have feelings flying everywhere. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and I would like to thank everyone for reading and commenting so far. :) Reviews are always welcomed.<strong>


	23. Ch 23 Summer House

POV: Bart

I woke up in the morning thanks to my family members. Maggie woke me up by snuggling with me on my bed. I looked around and saw that mom was doing her best not to cry, dad just sat down in one of the hospital chairs in the corner of the room, Lisa was keeping herself busy not looking or talking to me while playing with Josie.

I didn't want to ask what was going on, I was to afraid to find out. I just talked and acted like nothing was out of the norm. All that I got out of mom was that I was being discharged today and she wouldn't say anything else. That's when I realized that Tom was missing. I looked up at mom and asked her where he was.

"Tom had to go home last night, his mom and dad wanted him to get some summer schooling," she told me with a small smile. I sighed a sigh of relief, I was glad to hear that he was okay but I was sad that I didn't have a chance to say goodbye. Mom handed me some of my clothes and a plastic bag for my stuff I had to pack. Everyone stepped out so I could dress, when I was ready and packed up what I had, I sat on the bed and tried to figure out what was going on with everyone.

Someone cleared their throat at the door way. I looked up to see Maggie standing there; I smiled at her and motioned for her to come closer. She slowly walked over to me and sat down beside me.

Neither of us said nothin' for the longest time. Mags dug inside her pocket and she put an envelope into my hand and hugged me super tight. I hugged her back just as tight, I thought I was going to break her but I didn't care because for some reason I knew something was going to happen.

"Are you ready to go Bart?" Mom asked me, a sob caught in her throat. I looked up at her and for the first time since I was little I wanted nothing more but to run to her and have her hold me tight but something was stopping me. So I just sighed and put on a smile.

"Sure mom," I said with my best smile, that I only show to her and Mags. I put the envelope into my bag, I followed them out to the hallway with my small plastic bag, and the first thing I saw was Bob talking to my dad. I hid behind mom because he was the last person I wanted to see right now, especially since of yesterday, I could feel myself blush at how childish I was in front of him.

Bob saw me and smiled at me, this made me just blush more for some reason.

"Hello Bart, are you ready to leave?" He asked me. I gave him a confused look and looked up at mom.

"What does he mean mom?" I asked her. I could feel myself start to get a little scared. She kneeled down so she was on my level, it is times like this that I realize how short I really am, and she held on tightly to my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

I knew this stance; this was mom's way of preparing to tell me something I really didn't want to hear. I braced myself for the worst but it didn't really prepare me for anything.

"Honey, you're going to be staying with Bob for a little while," mom told me in a sad voice. I could feel my heart skip a beat and my color leave my face. I didn't know what to say so I just kept looking at her. She pulled me into a hug and whispered.

"I know your scared honey but this is for the best, Bob will make sure that you are safe and this will help you stay more safe, please don't be mad honey."

For some reason I felt a switch flip on in my head and another one turn off. I hugged mom back and softly smiled. I didn't know what to say so I just looked back at Mags.

"Make sure you watch mom for me Mags," I told her with a smile. She could only give me thumbs up because I think if she spoke she would break down. I let go of mom and walked over to Lisa who was holding Josie. Without saying anything I gave Lisa and Josie a big hug. I let go of them and walked over to where Bob and Homer were standing.

"Ready when you are," I told Bob with a steady voice. I looked up at Homer and patted his shoulder.

"Keep it easy Homer." With that statement I walked behind Bob to the front of the hospital where a limo was waiting on us. The driver opened the door and he closed it behind us. I didn't know where he was driving us but I didn't really feel like talking to Bob at the moment and thankfully he wasn't either.

A few hours later we made it to the airport and the driver took us to a private jet. I would have been in 'aw' if I didn't feel so numb. I just grabbed the stuff I had and followed Bob on to the jet. The inside of it was all leather and fancy looking; I really didn't know what to do with myself so I sat down in the seat next to the window. Bob sat down a cross from me and leaned back.

"We should be getting to the summer house soon," he told in a calm voice. I glanced over at him and then looked back out the window. I heard him sigh but I didn't look back at him. He got up and went somewhere on the jet. I felt the jet start up and go into the sky. The clouds looked so close yet far away.

Bob came back over and sat down across from me again.

"I just talked to the pilot and he told me that we should be there by five," he told me. I just nodded at what he said; I didn't really feel like looking at him. Bob didn't say anything after that, I thought it was because he was annoyed with me but when I looked over I saw that he fell asleep. I thought he had the right idea for once, so I leaned back with my arms crossed and closed my eyes.

I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up Bob was standing over me.

"We're here," he told me simply. I nodded at him and followed him off the jet. This time I could not help my jaw dropping. We were in the back yard of a huge mansion; I could not believe that this was just considered the summer house. It was several stories high and had a tennis court and an inside pool, I could see it through some big windows on one side of the house. It was a nice creamy color all around but the window panes were blue along with everything else that wasn't that creamy color. The only thing that caught me off guard was how deep in the woods it was. We were surrounded by trees of all kind.

"Well come on," Bob told me. As soon as we were far enough away the jet took off to leave us alone. Bob and I walked around the huge house to the front. The front steps were made of cobble stones and so was the drive way. For some reason this made me feel at peace. Bob opened the door and ushered me inside. I looked around and saw that the inside was even bigger then it looked outside.

It had high ceilings with polishing marble for floors. It also had a homey feel to it though.

"You're things are already in your room, I will show you where you will be bunking," Bob told me. I followed him up a large staircase to the second floor. There he went to the second door to last on the right side. He opened the door and my room was big.

There was a flat scene T.V. and a huge bed. Plus I had my own bathroom and closet. Like Bob said my stuff was in a pile beside the bed. I walked in and sat down on the bed.

"I will be right down the hall so that I'm close but you still have your privacy," he told me. I looked at him and nodded, I know I had not talked to him since this morning at the hospital but I really did not feel like talking.

"You are welcome to explore the house and all around it but I would appreciate it if that you would tell me before you go outside, so I know where or what you're doing," he explained. Again I just nodded at him; I looked up in time to see Bob roll his eyes at me. I sighed and just sat on the bed waiting for him to leave.

He finally left and I got up to close and lock the bedroom door. I did a belly flop onto the bed and the plastic bag mom gave me fell to the ground; I reached down to pick it up and saw that the letter Mags gave to me fell out.

I picked them both up and turned the envelope in my hand. There was nothing written on it so I slowly opened it, careful not to tear whatever might be inside. Inside was a lone photo, with something written on the back?

I looked at the picture and almost broke down crying but I stopped myself. It was a close up of me and Mags, it was a resent picture because I remember it being taken, it wasn't even a year ago.

We were both looking at the camera with toothy grins. I was kneeling behind her, with my arms across her shoulders holding her to my chest. Her small arms were hooked around my arms, it was when I saw pictures like this that I knew how much Mags and I look alike. I turned it over and read what it said.

'_Hey big brother,_

_I hope that you don't mind that I gave you this picture. I wanted to slip in a family photo but I decided to be a little selfish and send a picture of just the two of us, to you. :P I love you Bart and I don't blame you if you feel sorry for yourself but please don't stay like that. That's not the brother I love you. We will see you soon and I hope that when you feel bad or sad or whatever, that this picture will bring you comfort. _

_-Love Maggie _

I could not stop the tears that were falling down my face and I didn't want to. I was hurt and confused, even though Mags was miles away she still understood me better than a lot of people. After what seemed like an hour of crying I wiped my eyes away and went to my bathroom.

In the mirror I saw a pitiful looking version of myself; my eyes were red and it obvious that I had been crying. So I put some water on my face and that made my eyes look better. My stomach growled so I decided that it was time I went and found something to eat.

I poked my head out in the hallway and smelled that something yummy smelling was being cooked. I followed the smell to the kitchen. Bob was standing with his back to me cooking something that smelling like steak over the stove.

"Hey Bob," I said, my voice sounded weak and small but at least it didn't sound like I just got done crying. He looked over at his shoulder at me and nodded at me.

"Hello Bart, finally decided to start talking again," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes and didn't say anything to that.

"What are you cooking? It smells really good," I told him. This compliment seemed to catch him off guard because he glanced back at me.

"It's steak stir-fry. I thought it would sound good to you," he told me. This surprised me that he thought about me, this made me want to blush for some reason but I kept it to myself.

"I never had stir-fry but it sure does smell good," I told him with a friendly smile. Bob looked over at me and gave me a smirk.

"So after everything we've been through, do you really trust me to cook your food? For all you know I could have put poison it," he told me. I rolled my eyes at him and smirked.

"Bob if you wanted me dead you would have killed me by now," I smiled. Bob just shrugged at what I said but I could tell that he was smiling. And that made me feel good that I made him smile for some odd reason.

A few minutes later the food was done and Bob fixed me and himself a plate at the long dinner table. I took a small bite of food and it was one of the best foods I have ever eaten.

"This really is good Bob, this almost tastes like my mom's cooking," I told him while I was eating. I looked over at him and he was smiling at me.

"Thank you for the compliment Bart," he told me while he ate. The rest of dinner was silent but it wasn't really, it was like we really didn't have to talk not that I minded but I kind of missed how noisy the dinners at my house were.

After dinner Bob and I went to our separate rooms and we said goodnight to each other. After putting my clothes and other things into the closet, I kind of didn't want to go to sleep, it was already ten a clock so I tip toed to the stairs. I looked down the hall to see a small stream of light coming from underneath Bob's door.

I got down the stairs in one piece and I looked around. The living room was awesome looking and there was a flat screen T.V. And a huge couch that went around the whole room. I walked towards where I saw the pool and it was even bigger than what I thought. I looked up the stairs and then back to the pool.

I opened the door leading to the pool room and the smell of chlorine slapped me in the face. There were lights under the water and they changed to all kinds of different colors. I put my big toe and the water was the perfect temperature. I bit my lip and looked back up the stairs.

'_I just have to take a dip!' _I shouted in my head as I stripped down naked. Without a second thought I jumped in and let the water take my worries away. I don't know how long I was in there but while I was, I had no stresses to worry about. After my skin started to prune I decided to get out of the pool.

I was dripping wet and didn't have a towel so I used my clothes to get myself halfway dry and started walking back up to my room. I didn't worry about getting redressed, after all Bob was probably a sleep. I was almost to the top of the stairs when I ran head first into Bob's chest. I could feel myself start to fall backwards when Bob reached out and grabbed me around my waist, he had ahold of the banister and pulled us both up to the top of the floor.

I was breathing heavy from my scare of almost falling down all those stairs. I looked over at Bob to see that he was blushing and was trying not to look at me. That's when I remembered that I was still naked. I ran to my room without looking at him. I yelled though my door.

"Thank you for saving me!" That's all I could say before I crashed to my knees, blushing worst then I ever had because for some reason I liked the feeling of Bob looking at my naked body. I shook that thought from my mind and took a quick hot shower.

I hoped into bed, it was soft as a cloud and I could feel myself losing my battle with sleep. So I yawned and closed my eyes and that night I dreamt about that scene on the stairs over and over again.


	24. Ch 24 Dreams

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed but I would like to give a special shout out to SanjiReachan, thanks for the awesome review. :) And I hope that everyone who loves this story keeps reading. On with the story. **

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><p><em>Bart's dream-<em>

_Bob grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the top of the stairs for the millionth time that night. And each time he got a little sexier each time but it didn't bother me at all because I would find myself blushing more and more. _

_But this time it was a little different or at least it seemed like it. Bob pulled me to the top of the stairs but both our clothes were completely missing this time and he held me closer and tighter. For some reason I was too shy to look him in the eyes. _

"_Will you please look at me Bart?" He asked in this velvety soft voice. I could not help myself and I looked up into his eyes. They were the color of chocolate but I was taken out of that thought because Bob softly cupped my cheek in his hand. With a soft smile he put his forehead against mine. _

_It was the safest I've felt in years; I could not help the tears in the corner of my eyes. I inched my body closer to his and tilted my lips up to his. Our lips almost when I heard some kind of annoying knocking sound. _

I shot up in bed in a cold sweat and looked around the room. I ran my fingers through my damp hair and sighed. The annoying knock started up again and it made me nervous until I realized that it was Bob knocking on my door.

"Simpson, time to get up," he shouted. I blushed at the sound of Bob's voice and my dream came back to me like a slap to the face. That's when I noticed that I had a hard on, a blush came to my face before I had a chance to say anything.

"Are you awake?" Bob asked while slowly opening my door, I could not let Bob see my erection so I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Leaning against the door I shouted.

"Yeah, I'm up! Just taking a quick shower!"

Bob didn't respond but I did hear the door close. I let out a sigh of relief and started to strip. I didn't know my way around the large bathroom but I figured out quickly which handle was for the hot water and which was for the cold.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

I didn't know what was wrong with the lad but I had a guess. It probably had something to with last night, not that I cab blame him. I personally can't seem to forget it myself. As I reached the top of the stairs I looked down at the top stair and a blush creped over my face. I can't help but remember what had happened as I walked to the kitchen.

_I was lying in bed, reading a book that I had found on one of the many shelves in the room and had just gotten comfortable when I heard the sound of the door to pool room opening. I quickly and quietly got out of bed and stuffed a small knife that was on the head board into my pocket. _

_I made it to out to the hallway and I heard someone coming up the stairs. I looked towards Bart's room and saw a small stream of light was peeking out from under his door, so I guessed that he was unaware of the stranger in the house. _

_Walking as quietly as possible to the stair case, I looked around the corner and saw a dark figure making their way up. So I braced myself to attack and when the person made it to the top stair I jumped out and pushed them, hoping that the fall down would be enough to faze them. _

_It only took me a second to recognize the spiky blonde hair and the fear in his bright blue eyes. I dropped the knife and grabbed him and pulled him against my chest, with my other hand I held tightly to the banister. I pulled us both up to the top of the stairs and let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't until I took a breath that I realized that my clothes were soaking wet. _

_I was about to ask Bart what in the world happened but I was lost for words when I saw that he was naked. He was gasping for breath just as I was but he seemed so small and weak. I didn't mean my eyes to wonder but they did and I could not help notice how 'gifted' Bart was. My face heated up but being the gentleman I am I looked away. _

_In a flash the lad got up and ran to his room. After I heard his door close did I dare look in that direction, in the silence of the hallway Bart broke it. _

"_Thank you for saving me!" He shouted. I smirked at his comment and picked up the knife from the ground and headed back to my room with the smirk still present on my face. _

"Hey Bob you okay?" I heard someone ask me. I was knocked out of my day dreaming, if you could call it that. I looked down at the lad and my jaw almost dropped.

Bart was standing there giving me the cutest confused and shyest face I have ever seen and yet that wasn't what took me by surprise. He was wearing a t-shirt that was too big for him so that it was slipping off one shoulder and he was wearing black shorts that were a little too short. His blonde hair was still wet from just getting out of the shower, it made his hair look longer and prettier.

'_How in the world can he be a guy?!_' I yelled in my head. But I shook that thought away and smirked at him.

"I am quite fine Bart, why don't you take a seat in the living room while I make us something," I told him. He just shrugged his shoulders and did as I told him. With a sigh I got to work making us both breakfast. But whenever I wasn't really concentrating on something my mind would wonder back to last night. And for some strange reason I did not mind it. Thankfully my mind was not given much time to wonder because there was a few times when I almost burned the food.

'_Get a hold of yourself Bob! Your letting what happened last night take over your mind.' _I shouted to myself in my head. After all the food was cooked, only a few things had been burnt thanks to my wondering mind. I groaned to myself at how immature I was acting.

"Bart, the food is finished," I called to the living room. I placed two plates at the table and got the food all ready. It wasn't until I had the silverware out that I realized that Bart wasn't there.

'_He must have not heard me.'_ I put down the silverware and walked towards the living room. I saw the top of his blonde head so I knew that he was there, I leaned over the couch and saw that he had fallen asleep. I smiled, despite myself.

I reached over, about to shake his shoulder when he mumbled in his sleep. Pulling my hand back, hoping that I hadn't woken him up. For some reason my curiosity always peeked whenever someone was sleep talking. It was the only time people actually spoke the truth, other than when their drunk. I leaned in closer hoping to hear something.

"…Bob…" He moaned. I felt my face get warm from embarrassment.

'_What is he dreaming about?' _I wondered. It didn't take long for another moan to slip through his lips. I felt a shiver go down my spine for some odd reason and my palms were getting sweaty. It was like I was in a trance and the Bart was the cause of it.

I reached out with a somewhat timid hand and rubbed his ear. This made Bart shiver and moan at the same time. Not knowing what I was doing I reached out with my other hand and softly brushed it over his blonde hair. I don't know if it's because he had just taken a shower if it was me but all that I know is that his hair was softer and finer than what I thought it would be.

"Your hair is so fine," I mumbled to him and myself. Bart softly smiled and snuggled against my hand.

"Evans…" He whispered softly. It was at that moment that I realized what I was doing. I pulled back both of my hands and just sat there, dumbfounded.

'_What was I doing?' _I asked myself. I glanced over at Bart; he was still a sleep, completely unaware of what could have just happened. I shook my head of that thought and pulled at my hair.

'_What the hell am I thinking?! Nothing was going to happen! The only reason I was even doing that was to mess with him…Yeah that sounds good.' _Trying to convince myself that that's what I was doing. Looking over at Bart in his sleeping form, I sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time today. _'Then why did I get so jealous when he muttered someone else's name?' _

I was brought out of my thoughts by a knock at the door. I quickly grabbed a knife from the kitchen and walked slowly towards the door. Hiding the knife behind my back I looked through the small window on the door and saw what looked like a gardener.

Opening the door with my free hand I gave the man a smile.

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

_I was dreaming I knew that but it felt so real. Bob was touching my ear and running his hand through my hair. It felt so good I could not help but shiver and moan his name. He just smiled at me and kissed my forehead, that didn't feel as real but it sure did feel good. I closed my eyes so I could just feel what he was doing. _

"_Your hair is so fine," I heard someone tell me. I opened my eyes and saw that Evans was smiling at me just like the old days. _

"_Evans…what are you doing here?" I asked him with a soft smile. I didn't know why but it sure did feel good to someone good from my past. _

My dream was cut short by someone shaking me awake. Opening my heavy eye lids, I looked around and saw that I had fallen asleep on the couch and Bob was the one trying to wake me up. I yawned and looked over at him.

"Is the food done yet?" I asked him, still half a sleep. Bob quickly looked away from me and walked over to the kitchen table.

"It has been done," he told me in an annoyed voice. Getting up as quickly as I could I followed him to the table to see that there was a huge spread of food, as if on cue my stomach growled. Bob smirked at me from where he was sitting and for some reason that got me a little cheesed off but I just ignored.

After eating in silence for a little bit, I heard the distant sound of a lawn mower. I glanced around, confused, I didn't know if I had left the t.v. on or not. Everything seemed to be turned off so I looked over at Bob who was staring a hole into the table while he was eating.

"Hey, is it just me or do you hear a lawn mower?" I asked him.

'_I hope that I'm not losing my brain because of all the stress_.' I thought to myself. Bob looked up at me with a bored expression and shook his head.

"It's not you, while you were sleeping one of Krusty's gardeners showed up saying that Krusty ordered him to take care of the lawn," he told me. For some reason this seemed to thaw out the icy room because Bob didn't stare down at the table for the rest of the time while we ate. Other than the sound of the lawn mower everything was silent though, it kind of sucked.

"So…Bob what are the plans for today?" I asked him awkwardly. He looked at me for a second and actually thought about it or at least he made it seem like he was thinking about it.

"I'm not sure, probably read a book or two, maybe write or just sleep, I'm not sure, what about you Bart?" He asked me. Not sure what to say I just shrugged my shoulders. For some reason I could no longer hear the lawn mower so I just thought that the mower had gotten too far away for me to hear when there was a knock at the door, it made me jump.

Bob chuckled at me and got up from the table. I sat not sure what else to do.

"Hello my good man," Bob told the man, I could hear the smile in his voice; I rolled my eyes at him.

"Hi…I'm done with the front, I was just hoping to get a glass of water," the man told him, for some reason his voice sounded familiar to me, it sent a shiver down my spine. Bob stepped aside so that the man could come in. I knew that I knew that man before he even looked at me. The sun burned skin, his scruffy looking hair and the way he walked.

"Evans…?" I asked in a whisper. The man stopped in his tracks and looked at me. His brown eyes widened.

"Bart?" He asked in his gruff voice.

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><p><strong>Sorry for long wait but my internet didn't want to work for me. I hope that this chapter was worth the wait. Reviews are always welcomed. :) <strong>


	25. Ch 25 Memories that need to leave

POV: Bart

I could not turn away from Evans brown eyes. It seemed liked the whole room just stopped for a second and no one was even breathing. Just like that though, the world started to move again and Bob looked between the two of us with a confused look on his face.

"I'm sorry but do you two know each other by chance?" He asked. I blinked a couple of times and realized that he was talking to both me and Evans. I cleared my throat and looked down at the table not knowing what to say.

'_Damn! If I say I know him, Bob will want to know from where and if he knows from where then he will start to figure out some of my secrets.' _ I thought to myself.

"We know each other from his dad," Evans told Bob in an even voice. I looked at him and saw that he was giving Bob a charming smile that could rival his. He looked back over to me, with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't that right Bart?"

"Yeah…yeah man! That's where I know him from. Yeah, he and dad used to have a beer drinking contests and burping contests too!" I laughed nervously. Bob gave me an even more confused look and Evans slapped his forehead.

"Okay? Well, let me get you a glass of water, what was it…Evans? Then you can get back to work," Bob told him, pushing him over to the kitchen. I looked back down to the table and sighed, not sure what to do, because I was pretty sure that Bob saw right through Evans lie, thanks to me.

I heard Bob tell Evans goodbye and close the door softly behind him, his huge clown feet shuffled against the carpeted floor as he made his way back to the table. He sat back down and didn't say anything. I might not be the smartest kid out of the bunch but I knew when someone was staring me down.

I glanced up at him and saw that in deed he was. I cleared my throat awkwardly, sat up and looked him the eye.

'_If people can say anything about Bart Simpson it's that I never back down from a stare contest.' _I thought to myself. After about a minute without either of us blinking Bob gave a smile, I could not place what kind it was but it was defiantly close to a pissed one. I had to look away from his intense glare.

"Bart, I know that you and that gardener are lying to me. But the thing I find most confusing is why?" Bob asked me. I didn't look up at him this time, I just sat there hoping that somehow I would disappear into the floor boards and never come out again.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered. Bob let out an angry growl and got up from the table without a word. He stomped up the stairs like a little kid and slammed his bedroom door. I sighed and got up, heading towards my room.

I paced around, thinking about if Evans being here could make my secrets come out.

'_What if Evans says something to Bob on accident? Or what if Bob threatens Evans to tell him what he is hiding?' _ I thought as I pulled at my hair. I sat down on my bed and closed my eyes trying to get a hold of myself. I looked around the room, trying to find anything that could calm me down, my eyes landed on the picture of Maggie and me, resting on the nightstand.

I reached over and smiled down at the picture I held in my hands. I could almost hear Maggie's voice telling me that I shouldn't be acting like this and I should just suck it up and try to go talk to Evans. Placing the picture back where it was, I put on some shoes and headed down stairs.

As I opened the front door I shouted up to Bob that I was going out. I waited for him to shout some kind of insult or him running down the stairs telling me that I could not go outside without him being there. But there was nothing. Nothing but silence and that made me feel a bit lonely.

I closed the door behind me and walked around back to see if I could find Evans. The lawn mower was not on anymore so that meant that he must be doing something else. As I turned the corner of the big house, I heard a little meow in one of the bushes. I looked down and saw the biggest blues eyes staring up at me.

"What are you doing here little girl?" I asked as I picked her up. She gave me a soft meow, as if she was telling me why she was there; I softly laughed at her and held her tightly against my chest. The little black and white kitten settled against me and lied down in my arms. As I walked around looking for Evans, I kept talking to the little kitten. The more I talked to her the more she would meow at me, it was like she was actually listening and talking back.

"You know little girl you are a real sweetheart," I told her with a soft smile. It wasn't until I looked up, that I saw that I was in the part of the yard that was nothing but trees and shrubbery. I didn't have to look that far into the trees until I heard what sounded like giant scissors cutting through thick sheets of paper. I walked around a few more trees when I saw Evans reaching up with his sheers to cut off a branch.

It didn't take him long to realize that he had company. He turned around and gave me a small smile and went back to what he was doing. The little kitten jumped out of my arms and ran towards him like he was covered in milk or something. She rubbed against his leg and meowed up at him. Evans looked down at her and smiled. He put down his sheers and picked her up.

"Where have you been Boots?" He asked the kitten in a soft voice.

"Is she yours?" I asked him. Evans sat under a shade tree and placed 'Boots' on his lap.

"Yes, HE is mine," Evans chuckled. He looked up at me with that same smile from long ago and patted the space beside him. I smirked at him and sat down beside him. After a few minutes of neither of us saying anything I remembered what I came out here to talk about.

"What are you doing here Evans?" I asked him. I didn't mean to sound mean but I didn't know how else to ask.

"After I left Tornstone I was hired by Krusty to work on his lawn work, that's what I'm doing here," he told me with a smirk that I have never seen before but it had been a few years since I saw him last. I could see him getting another job for gardening but it still didn't make sense.

"I didn't mean that Evans, it's just why are you here right NOW?" I asked him. "Because Krusty told everyone to stay away from here while me and Bob are here didn't he?" His face took on a more guarded expression and he shook his head, like he was trying hard to keep a secret from me.

"Well Bart…you see…" he mumbled. He looked up at me with what looked like a sad expression. Evans cleared his throat about to say something but he was interrupted.

"Hello fellows," Bob called to Evans and me, I turned around and shot him a glare, telling him to go way but he just gave us a quick fake smile and reached down grabbing me by my upper arm and pulled me roughly to my feet.

"Well Evans you have done a great job at tending the lawn and you are welcome to stay a few nights but I don't think that you should be around the boy," Bob told him with his kindest, yet most intimating voice, I've ever heard. Evans dropped his head like he didn't know what else to do and nodded once. I looked up and saw that Bob was smirking. I could almost hear what he was thinking.

'_I can still scare people shitless.' _That's what his face said. I tried to jerk my arm out of his hand but that only got him angrier it seemed because he just gripped tighter and pulled me off my feet more than once on our way back to the house. When he finally had me inside he threw me inside and crossed his arms.

"What the hell Bob!" I yelled. I was pissed, I didn't want to be stuck inside the house with him I wanted to be outside helping Evans. Bob just shot me a glare and didn't move from in front of the door.

"You are not to talk to that man again," he told me an even voice. He didn't sound angry, in fact he sounded calm almost, and it was weird. In all the years I've known Bob he never sounded this calm with me. I took a step towards the front door and Bob took a step forward and blocked my way.

"I'm going back outside," I told him, looking up at him. I was not going to lose this stare off.

"And I told you not to talk to that man again," he told me a stubborn voice. I could feel myself getting angrier but I tried to stay calm like Bob was doing.

"And who said that I was going to talk to him because I didn't," I said. Bob just smirked and laughed at me.

"Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?" He asked me, with a smirk still present on his face. I didn't know what to say to that so I just stayed quiet, keeping my eyes on his. Bob took a step closer to me and leaned down so that he was looming over me.

"I know Bart Simpson that somehow you and this gardener are connected in some way, and God knows it's not because he and your father are friends, I can't even fathom that thought. No... what I think is, is that you know Evans from a different place, someplace that you loathed and still do…he is a part of your past that I need to figure out…isn't he Bart?" He asked me in a dark voice. I felt my face lose its color. It was the first time in a long time that I was scared out of my mind.

Without really thinking, I pushed Bob away from me and ran through the front door. I didn't hear him call my name if he did, my ears were turned off to everything, my whole body was on autopilot, the only thing I knew was that I was running and only one thing kept going through my mind.

'_He can't find out what happened!'_

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

The boy looked up at me, with a scared expression that I had never seen before and that is saying something considering I tried to kill him several times. The color in his face was completely gone and he looked like he just saw a ghost. He pushed me out of the way and ran out the front door.

'_Okay, I was not expecting that,' _I thought to myself. I watched him run to the side of the house and out of my sight. I was right behind, I could not afford him getting hurt, and after all I would be the prime suspect. I shook my head at that thought and rounded the house but he was out of sight.

"Damn! Why does Krusty have to have such a large yard," I mumbled to myself. I ran over to where the gardener and Bart were earlier, only to find that neither of them was there. I sighed and ran around the hedges hoping to find one of them. As I rounded a corner I ran straight into a person and we both hit the ground.

I rubbed my head and looked up to see I had run into the gardener, cradling a scared looking kitten against his chest.

"Hello sir," he told me in a hushed and pissed off tone. I got up and held out a hand to help him up but he just pushed it aside.

"I am sorry good man," I told him while dusting off some dirt. He just gave a look and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah…well where were you going in such a rush?" He asked in a monotone voice. That's when I remembered who I was looking for.

"Well actually I was looking for you, hoping that Simpson was with you," I watched him carefully for his response. It seemed to catch his attention because his head snapped up and glared at me.

' _Just what I was hoping for,' _I thought to myself.

"What are you talking about?" He asked me with venom in his voice.

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

My lungs were on fire and my breathing was gasps, and I was confused out of my mind but for some reason I didn't want to stop running. I had run to a part of the yard I had never been before and got myself stuck inside a maze. I kept running into walls of hedges, not sure where I should go next, I finally came to another dead end and that's where the tears came flooding out, bitter, angry tears.

It seemed like my autopilot shut itself off and my body collapsed on the ground of the maze. I don't know why I started crying it's not like that wasn't the first dead end I encountered in the maze but for some reason I got pissed off at myself. I felt like I was screw up, I couldn't do anything right.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

The gardener punched me across the face after I told him what had happened. I held my face in surprise and looked back at him. Not ever in my life had I ever faced someone that fierce looking and it even frightened me a little bit, not that I would ever admit that to anyone.

"You asshole! Do you have any idea what you have done?" He shouted. He was no longer cradling the kitten; he actually dropped it when he punched me. The gardener was pacing back and forth not sure what to do.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked him in the same tone he gave me. He shot me a look and stopped pacing.

"You don't have a clue do you?" He asked me. I just shrugged at him. He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head. "You just opened up a wound that should not have been opened." He didn't say anything else after that, he just ran off to look for Simpson. I sighed and pulled at my hair.

"My plan did not go as well I planned at all," I mumbled to myself. That's when I heard a little meow beside my foot. I looked down and saw that kitten looking up at me with what looked like a smug look.

"Everybody's a critic," I huffed and followed after the gardener.


	26. Ch 26 The Truth Comes Out

**I know the last chapters were a half-assed job at best and I'm sorry. I hope that these upcoming chapters make up for it. **

**Reviews are always welcomed.**

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><p>POV: Evans<p>

I didn't know where to look for Bart but I had a few guesses of where he would be. He wasn't at the tennis courts, the pool or at the golf course. That's when I realized that Bart did not know this place at all, he was probably lost somewhere and that scared the hell out of me. What made it worst was that Bart's damn guardian would not stop following me.

"Won't you slow down!" He yelled at me. I rolled my eyes and stopped, not for him, I had to catch my breath. He caught up to me and gasped for air for a little bit when he got his second wind he straightened up and looked at me.

"If I may ask, what is your history with the Simpson boy?" He asked me in his even voice. I sighed and turned away from him, not wanting to get into it, that's when my eyes skimmed over to the garden maze. I ran to the entrance and started to look everywhere. I knew this place like the back of my hand it didn't take long for me to lose Mr. Terwilliger, all I could hear his annoyed shouts, I smirked and kept going.

I came to the next long row when I saw at the end was Bart, just lying there. My heart skipped a beat as I ran to him. I kneeled down beside him and picked him up. He barely weighed anything as I ran through the rest of the maze and back to the house.

Thankfully his guardian was still stuck in there somewhere so I did not have to put up with him. I went through the back door and gently placed Bart down on the couch. I bent down and saw that he was fine, he just fainted, probably because of stress. I ran a hand through his hair and shivered.

'_It's still as soft as I remember,' _I thought to myself with a soft smile.

"I'm lost!" I heard Mr. Terwilliger yell from outside. I cussed under my breath and went outside to help him, not in the mood to put up with any of his crap. He was still yelling at the top of lungs as I made my way to help him out of the maze. I found him real fast but his back was to me so he didn't even notice me until I cleared my throat. This made him jump out of his skin but finally noticed that I found him.

Without exchanging words of any kind I walked back to the house with him close at my heels, I was surprised that he didn't grab the back of my shirt to make sure that he didn't get lost in the maze again. We finally made it back to the house but I stepped in front of the door to make sure that he didn't make it inside.

"Before I let you inside this house, I want to let you know everything that Bart won't tell you about his old school," I told him, not looking in his direction, instead I stared at my feet.

"Really? But I thought that you said that it was Bart's story to tell…" he said, I could hear the distrust in his voice. My temper was starting to show its ugly head and I really didn't want to punch this poor bastard again. I grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

"I know what I said," I whispered through my teeth. Bob struggled in my grasp but my strength never wavered. I brought him down so I was looking him in the eyes.

"Bart is not strong enough to handle all of this, you keep trying to pry him open and that won't work with a boy like him. I know at some point he will be able to feel in the gaps but not right now. I will tell you what I know of what happened if you take it easy on him from now on," I explained. By this time Bob stopped trying to get away and he just looked at me. I could tell…he was pissed.

"Fine. Tell me what you know and I promise that I won't bother the boy…for now," he told me in a dark voice. I slowly lowered him to the ground and he brushed himself off like I did nothing more than tell him he had a little bit of dirt on his collar.

"Now that you're done being aggressive will you be as kind as to tell me what you know?" He asked me. I looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'll tell you." I sat down at the table on the patio and waited for him to join me. Bob sat down in front of me with an annoyed look on his face.

"Okay, well where do you want me to start?" I asked him, trying to keep emotions in check.

"Let's just start with where you met Bart," he told me.

"Okay, well I met Bart during his first year at Tornstone. I had been working there a few years and it was one of the better jobs that I had. And the first time I saw Bart I thought that he was a weak little momma's boy not that that's a bad thing that was just came to my mind first."

"So you're saying that you talked to Bart first?" He asked. I could feel a small smile appear on my face.

"No. I saw him before he saw me, I mean who couldn't notice someone like him. At a school like Tornstone he stood out like a sore thumb…the first time I saw him I could have sworn I saw an angel," I mumbled so that Bob could not hear the last part.

"What did you say? You mumbled there at the end." I chuckled at him and closed my eyes.

"It was nothing important and to answer your first question, Bart talked to me first. He seemed alone the first time he talked to me but slowly he started to open up to me. He told me about his family and the people he missed. And I told him a little bit about myself… The one thing Bart is terrible at is that he can never trust the right people."

"Are you saying you're one of these people?" Bob gave me a confused look.

"Why, yes I am. Believe it or not Mr. Terwilliger I am a very selfish person and when I see something I like I keep to for myself and I will not let anyone else touch it." Bob just looked more confused by my random outburst.

"Bart also helped me with my chores, he wasn't every good at any of them really but he put everything he had into it so the first time I touched his soft blonde hair I could not stop myself from…falling for him," I whispered. I let the last thing I said hang in the air, watching Bob for a reaction and when it finally hit him what I had said, his face was priceless.

"Good man! Are you saying that you love Bart Simpson?" He yelled and jumped out of his chair. I shrugged my shoulders trying to keep my calm demeanor.

"What if I am? What would you do about it?" I asked him. Before he could answer I answered it for him. "Let me answer that for you. You can't do anything because if you tell Bart any of this or anyone for that matter I will make sure that you never see Bart Simpson again and that is one thing you don't want to happen, isn't that right Mr. Terwilliger?"

Bob just looked at me not sure what to say, he sat back down in his chair and leaned across with a look that could kill me, if looks could that is.

"What are you talking about Mr. Evans?" He asked.

"What I mean Bob, is that I know that you like Bart more than what you let on and the sooner you realize it the sooner we can see who Bart will choice. Now what other questions do you have for me?"

"What the hell! You can't just bring one thing up and just drop it!" He yelled at the top of lungs while beating the top of the table.

"Oh, I believe I can if you want the rest of your questions answered." Bob and I glared at each other for a moment or two before Bob shook his head and sighed in defeat.

"Okay…fine. Did Bart at any time start to act odd around you?" He asked.

"Yes. When Bart started to spend more time with the upper classmen he started to act jumpy at every little thing and at the time I thought it was because of me so one day I told him goodbye and I left," I explained.

"Do you remember any of the upper classmen by name?" I thought about his question and only one name came to mind.

"Patrick Dawes. That was the main upper classmen Bart use to tell me about," I told him. "But from what I heard from a friend of mine that still worked at the school at the time that he was sent to a crazy house for some reason, I heard it had something to do with Bart. I think if you want to start somewhere you should start there."

Bob sat there thinking about what I told him probably trying to figure out if I had told him any lies. I don't know how long we both sat there in silence but I could not help but think about if Patrick did something to Bart and that thought made my blood boil. Without a word Bob got up and went inside the house. I followed him and saw that he was heading towards the phone in the kitchen. I looked over and saw that Bart was still knocked out.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

"Krusty I have a lead that could help me crack open this case!" I told him over the phone, trying to keep my voice low.

"What do you have Bob?" Krusty asked in his old dry voice.

"It's a long story but I need to get a ticket for Springfield right away," I told him. Krusty the old fart told me that he would get it all arranged for Bart and I leave as soon as possible. I told him to order an extra ticket because we had another person coming with us, this caught him off guard but he said he would have it taken care of, I thanked him and got off the phone. I walked back into the living room to see Evans rubbing Bart's head; the green monster was starting to show its ugly head.

"Okay, here's the plan." I yelled. Bart sat up in a startle and hit Evans right in the nose, just like I thought it would happen. Bart rubbed his head where he hit and Evans held his nose. "Mr. Evans you're coming with us and Bart get your things ready because we all will be leaving fairly shortly."

I walked away from the both of them and started packing my things. After a few hours of packing I heard a knock at the front door and it was the limo coming to pick us up. Bart was sulking, while Evans stared out the window not sure what to think of this whole situation.

"Why does Evans have to be here? You don't think he's the killer do you?" Bart asked me in an angry voice. I sighed and shook my head.

"I needed Evans to come with us because I am not sure why but I think he could help us out a great deal with this case, you never told me anything about your past Bart Simpson," I glared down at the boy and it made him squirm in his seat. "But Mr. Evans was nice enough to tell me what he knew about it and I need to make sure that he was telling the truth and well besides that I want to keep an eye on him."

Evans glared at me and looked over at Bart who was giving him a look of betrayal. The boy looked away from him and stared at the ground.

"How could you Evans?" He asked in a whisper.

"Bart…I didn't meant to hurt you but this guy was only hurting you…I was trying to help you…I swear I was!" he exclaimed. A smirk appeared on my face, after putting me into a corner Evans was finally getting his turn and by the very person he liked no less.

"Oh the irony," I chuckled low enough so neither of them heard me, even if they did hear me they acted like they didn't. Evans reached out with a shaky hand wanting to comfort the boy but he stopped have way and just sat there.

'_This is better than a soap opera.' _I thought to myself with another chuckle.

The ride to airport was silent and so thick with unsaid words and emotions that I could have cut it with a butter knife. The jet ride home was not better. Bart completely ignored Evans and Evans on the other hand was trying to figure out a way to make it up to Bart but all of his attempts were failing miserably. I was getting tired of this whole situation but I couldn't say anything to help so I just kept my mouth shut and phoned the limo waiting for us in Springfield.

"Hello sir," came a chirper voice from the other end of the line. I winced at the sound but got over it.

"Hello my good man, I was just pondering if we would be able to get a ride to Tornstone School?" I asked him with an equally cheerful voice, as much as it killed me.

"Of course sir, no problem, when will you and your party be landing?" He asked. I looked back at the two people in my 'party' and sighed inwardly.

'_Yeah, some party we are.' _I thought sarcastically to myself. I was brought out of my thought by the young lad on the line.

"Are you there sir?" He asked, worry evident in his voice.

"Oh! Yes, sorry, we will be landing in about thirty minutes, please don't be late and I will make sure you get a raise in your pay check," I told him.

"Yes sir!" He cheered. I hang up the phone and not too much later our jet landed. We were all herded into the limo. Without telling the driver where to go we headed to Tornstone School for boys. Finally after what seemed like years, I…we were finally going to get some damn answers to these god forsaken questions…At least I hoped so.

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><p><strong>I hoped that readers like this and finally the story will be getting action filled. Oh and the more reviews I get the faster I type so please read and review. Thank you very much :)<strong>


	27. Ch 27 Clues

**I hope that everyone enjoyed the last chapter. From here on out I plan to update at least one chapter every week. Thank you for being patient with this story and I hope that you all continue to read. **

**Enough of me talking, on with the story.**

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

Sitting in the small limo with two people that I could barely trust for the most part was the most awkward thing I ever experienced in my whole life and that really said something. I had no idea where we were going and to be honest I could really care less, all that I knew was that I probably wasn't going to like wherever we were going.

I looked over at Bob who was still looking out the window, smirking to himself.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, trying to seem like I didn't care if he told me or not. Bob looked at me, his smirk never leaving.

"He speaks," he said in a dark voice. It reminded me of all the times he had tried to kill me in the past and that voice still sent a shiver down my spine. My temper was starting to get the better of me.

"Of course I can speak, ass-wipe, now are you going to tell me where we're going or not!" I shouted. I had no idea why I yelled at Bob, he hadn't done anything super bad to me recently, well except take me from my family to take me a random mansion in the middle of nowhere and is now taking me somewhere else that I didn't even know. So I guess I had a lot of reasons to be pissed at him but for some reason I don't think that was the reason behind my yelling.

"Ass-wipe? I haven't heard you use that one before, finally expanding your vocabulary now are we?" He asked me in a mocking voice. Before I could say or do anything else I felt Evans hand on my shoulder. I glared at him but he didn't take his hand away.

"Bart, please calm down, this isn't helping anyone," he told me with guilty eyes. Jerking my shoulder away from his grasp I almost felt like I was being cornered like a wild animal, I looked back at Bob to see that his eyes never left my person.

"What are you staring at?" I mumbled trying to get my temper back under my control. Sideshow Bob simply shook his head at me and sighed.

"I was hoping to wait until we actually got to Tornstone but I guess I could just tell you now," he told me, like he was almost sad of what he was about to tell me. I didn't hear anything else he said my mind was stuck on one word that he spoke.

'_Tornstone? Did he just say Tornstone?' _I thought to myself, a cold sweat broke out on my face. Bob didn't seem to notice because his mouth kept moving but no words were coming out. A hand waved in front of my face and I looked over to see that Evans was either trying to get my attention or he noticed something. He turned away and started to yell at Bob from the look of it, I looked over at him and saw that was Bob was shouting right back. I shook my head trying to clear my mind. My hearing came back and I heard the last part of what they were shouting about.

"-did you think that was the smartest fucking idea genius!" Evans yelled at the top of his lungs.

"I didn't know he would respond to the news like this!" Bob shouted back.

"ENOUGH!" I yelled at the both of them before they could say or start anything else. They both looked at me shocked. Leaning back against my seat, I crossed my arms and sighed.

"Okay. So we're going to Tornstone?" I asked Bob in the silence.

"Yes, we are and for good reason. I have a hunch that there might be a clue at Tornstone about who could be your wannabe killer," he said in a soft, almost tender voice. Bob reached over and touched my shoulder lightly, I looked up at him and just stared, waiting for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"I can't believe I am saying this but Bart please trust me on this, we…you need to do this," Bob told me in a kind voice. I could only nod my head, to afraid that if I spoke that the lump in my throat would only get bigger and it would be much harder to hold back how terrified I was.

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><p>POV: Evans<p>

For the rest of the ride all of us stayed quiet. Bart fell asleep half to through the ride and was resting his head against the window. I looked over at Bob every once in a while and saw that he was staring at Bart with a longing look, almost like he wished that Bart was leaning against his shoulder as he slept. Turning away from the both of them I stared out my own window trying to figure out what in hell we were going to find at Tornstone.

"You should know…I did not mean to be that harsh with the boy," Bob whispered. Looking over at him once again, I saw that he was being serious; his hand was resting over his eyes, almost like he was trying to stop himself from crying. I almost felt sympathy for the man…almost.

The limo came to a stop and the driver rolled down the window that kept us separated from him.

"Tornstone," he told us in a far too cheerful voice but then again he didn't know that he was about to drop us off at hell either.

Bob reached for his door handle and grasped it. He looked at me and gave me a bone chilling look. I could not tear my eyes away from his stare even if I wanted to and believe I wanted to.

"I am going to go in by myself, make sure the boy stays here." He got out of the limo without another word. I could only let my eyes drift to the ground and sit there.

"I have to go in." I looked over at Bart and saw that he was looking at the ground, same as me. His eyes traveled up to my face and I felt like I was looking at him for the first time again back when he was new at the school.

"No. You don't. You're staying right here with me," I told him, showing him that he could not change my mind. He pushed himself up from the window he was using as a pillow and sighed once again. He sighed way too much for a kid his age. I could tell that by the end of what he was about to say he was going to get his way. Before he could say anything I sighed and ran my hand over my face.

"I can't believe what I'm doing." I mumbled and smiled over at him. "Go."

That seemed to be all he needed, he nodded his head but before he got up to leave, he leaned over and kissed my cheek softly. Looking over, I could feel the shocked look on my face but Bart only smiled at me.

"Thanks Evans, I'll see you soon." He got up all excited, like he was about to go to a toy store. I chuckled and sat there, not sure what else I could do at the moment.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

As I walked through the hallways of this school, I could understand why Mr. Evans and Bart were so desperate to get away from this place. It was so dreary and looked as old as the Roman's coliseum. I had to do everything within my power not to snap at the little brats that kept staring at me; instead I kept my eyes straight.

"Hey look who it is, Bessie!" One of the older students yelled and ran past me. That name sounded so familiar I could not stop myself from turning around. There was a group of boys surrounding something or someone and I was hoping it wasn't the person I thought it was. As I walked closer I heard that very person's voice in the center of the crowd.

I stood taller than most of the boys in the group but it was only when I saw Bart next to other guys that I realized how short of boy he was. He was smiling and laughing with a few of them. A few were even going as far as punching him in the shoulder, showing how great of friends they were. For some reason I pushed my way through the crowd, grabbed Bart by the wrist and pulled him away. I heard a lot of people give me a lot of 'boos' and 'what the hells' but I did not give a damn.

"What the hell Bob? I was just saying hi to some old friends," the boy angrily told me. I turned a corner, the hallway was clear so I pushed Simpson against a wall and braced both of my hands on both sides of him so he couldn't escape.

"Okay, listen boy, I didn't want you to come with me but since you're here you might as well help me figure out where everything is in this school. And while we're here I don't want you talking to anybody is that clear?" I asked, glaring down at him. Simpson only gave me a serious look; I could tell he was trying not to laugh, and a salute.

"Yes sir." His serious demeanor crumbled and he busted out laughing. Rolling my eyes at him and leered over him.

"Would you as so kind as to show me the way to the principal's office?" I asked.

"Sure," the boy shrugged and started walking down the lone hallway. I followed him for a bit but made it so we were both at the same pace, I never wanted to seem like I was inferior to this boy, even if no one was around.

The walk to the principal's was fast because neither of us talked and all the classroom doors were closed so all the teachers voices were muffled. We turned another corner and Simpson stopped dead in his tracks. He pointed to the end of the hallway, to a door that read principal.

"It's there but I am not going any closer." His voice was cold.

"Okay but I want you to stay right here while I go talk to him, don't move from this corner," I told him and started walking towards the door. Stopping in front of the door I looked back and saw Bart leaning against the wall I told him to wait at, a small smile pulled at my lips.

Knocking on the door, I waited for a response but didn't get one. I slowly eased open the door and saw that no one was in there and the filing cabinet was unguarded, looking around the hallway and seeing no one, I quietly walked into the room and closed the door behind me.

I looked around the plain room, the only thing that made you even think it was the principal's office was the name plate on the oak desk; I walked around it and headed to the cabinet. I tried the one on top first and it was locked, I tried the rest of the draws and they were all locked as well.

"Damn!" I whispered angrily. Leaning my back against the wall I ran my hand over my face and sighed.

'_I could always wait until the principal comes back and try to get the information out of him.' _I thought to myself but I shook my head of that thought, there was no way that he would ever give away a student's personal information to someone who wasn't even family. Sighing once again, I was out of ideas and the one lead that I actually thought I had was before I even had it.

I pushed myself off of the wall and walked back to the door, pulling it open I looked and saw that no one was out there still so I glanced down at the end of the hallway and saw that Bart was still where I left him but a taller boy with blonde hair was talking to him and Simpson was looking at him with a soft smile and the other boy was blushing. The taller guy bent down and kissed Bart on the forehead and walked away. My lungs were on fire from holding my breath.

'_When did I stop breathing?'_

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

I watched Bob knock on the door and go into the room; it was like he was trying to be a ninja it seemed like. Chuckling at how stupid he looked. Staring at the door for longer then I need to I sighed and looked down at the floor that was so familiar and yet oddly dream like.

"Bart…? Is that you?" I heard a voice that echoed in my mind. I looked up and saw Ron, one of Patrick's friends from before I left and Patrick went crazy.

"Hey Ron," I waved shyly. A smile appeared on his face. Not knowing what to do, we both stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before Ron thankfully cleared his throat and laughed nervously. I followed suit not sure what else I could do.

"So I guess you heard about Patrick?" He asked in almost a whisper. My blood ran cold at the sound of that name, I really did not want to talk about him but at the same time some part of me wanted to know what he was talking.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him, trying to make it seem like I could care less. Ron gave me a sad looking face and rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Well Patrick is out of the crazy house now but he's going to the Tornstone College so you don't have to worry about running into him here," he told me; I could only guess how much I had paled when he told me the first part.

"So he's better?" I asked him. Ron only shook his head.

"Not really, he hasn't spoken a word sense he got out, the doctors say it's because he's not ready to talk about what sent him over the edge," he explained. I felt a bit sad for Patrick.

"How are you?" Ron asked. I looked up at him and saw that he was blushing, I gave him a soft smile. I couldn't tell him the truth so I lied.

"I'm fine," I told him. This made Ron only blush more.

"You know, I always did want to tell you how much I liked you but I never got up the guts, as stupid as that sounds," he laughed nervously. I still smiled softly at him.

"It's not stupid," I said. Before I knew what was happening Ron bent down and gave me a kiss on the forehead and whispered.

"You should go see Patrick, it will help you both." He walked away without another word, I watched his receding back.

"Simpson!" Bob yelled down the hallway, I looked and saw that he was walking straight for me and I could not help but notice how hot he looked. A blush reached my face before I could stop it.

"What the hell were you doing, I told you not to talk to anyone." He yelled some more. I didn't want him to be mad at me, I had no idea why but I didn't want him to shout at me anymore, so I grabbed both his arms with my hands and looked up at him with a pleading face.

"Bob I know where you can find some answers. Go to the Tornstone college, there you will find Patrick and you can talk to him," I told him, still not sure why I was telling him in the first place. Bob only nodded at me and dragged me back to limo, there he told the driver to take us to the Tornstone college which was pretty much right next door.

The whole ride was silent, no one said anything. Evans and Bob stayed in their corners thank God. When we reached the college both Bob and I got out. We were walking to the main office when I heard someone drop their books not far behind me. I turned around and my eyes landed on Patrick who was staring right back at me with eyes the size of saucers.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the cliffhanger but what about people from the past showing up? I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. I promise that I will update as soon as I can with the next chapter. Reviews are always welcomed. :)<strong>


	28. Ch 28 The Killers Found Out

POV: Bart

Patrick hadn't said anything since we walked to a private room in the main office of the college. He just kept looking down at his hands like he was afraid to look at me, which was understandable considering our history. Bob leaded over the table that separated Patrick from the two of us.

"Why don't you talk? I know that you know something," Bob told him for what seemed like the hundredth time in one hour. Patrick glanced up at me and then back down, that's when something clicked in my brain. I think I knew the reason why he wasn't saying anything but I didn't know if I should say it out loud or not.

"It's okay Patrick." I said. The room stilled and Patrick tensed in his chair. He didn't look up at me, not that I figured he would. Bob just looked over at me with a confused expression. I got out of my chair and crossed over to Patrick and touched his shoulder. He hid his face under his long blonde hair.

"I forgive you Patrick." I felt Patrick shiver under my hand at what I said and he slowly lifted his head and looked up at me. Tears were building in his eyes.

"H-how…can you?" He asked me in a whisper. I smiled down at him softly.

"Because everyone deserves a second chance," I told him and looked over at Bob whose jaw had dropped to the floor. He recovered quickly and sat back down in his chair; I gave Patrick's shoulder a light squeeze and went back to my own seat.

"Patrick, would you please answer my questions now?" Bob asked him in a tender voice. Patrick wiped his tears away and nodded.

"I-I'll answer your questions."

"Okay, now how do you know Bart?" Bob asked. I looked over at him, trying to figure out what his game plan was but he just ignored me and calmly kept looking Patrick. I looked away from him to see Patrick was staring at me, I could feel a blush burning at my cheeks.

"I know him from school, he was a friend of mine," Patrick told him.

Bob asked more questions about how school was for Patrick and things of that nature. After a while the old Patrick I knew started to come out, he sat up taller in his chair and he answered Bob's questions without a second thought, he didn't look scared like he did when we first started this questioning. But one question made both Patrick and I freeze.

"Were you responsible for making Bart run away from school?" Patrick's face paled but other than that it didn't seem to faze him. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, I couldn't look at him, I didn't want to remember, and I didn't want Bob to find out what had happened.

"Yes." He answered.

"What did you do?" Bob asked in his calm voice. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to keep the eyes burning my eyes from falling. I felt a warm hand on my knee, my eyes snapped open and saw that Bob wasn't looking at me but he somehow knew that I was panicking. Looking over Patrick I saw that he had tears in his eyes and he sighed.

"I tried to rape him," he whispered. He wiped his tears away but kept his eyes on the floor. The hand on my knee tightened, I looked up at Bob and saw a look that I only got to see when Bob was trying to kill me. A shiver went down my spine.

"Did Bart do anything to you to make you want to do that to him?" Bob asked in a dark, scary voice. Patrick only shook his head at the question. "Then why did you do it?"

The tension in the room was so thick I felt like I couldn't breathe. Bob shot out of his chair, reached over and grabbed Patrick by his shirt, lifting him out of his seat and half way across the table. I jumped up and grabbed Bob by the shoulders.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you!" Bob yelled.

"Bob stop!" I screamed. Patrick only looked at Bob with a scared look on his face. He mumbled something so quietly that I couldn't even hear what he had said. Bob pulled him over the table and held Patrick firmly over the floor by a few inches.

"What did you say?" Bob asked him through his teeth. Patrick looked at him with more tears in his eyes and a look of pure hurt.

"I loved him, he was the first person who ever actually liked me for me and he was the only person I put above myself. He was my world, the only person who could my day into either a good or a bad day, I loved everything about him." He said.

My grip on Bob's shoulders lightened up a little bit but I still didn't let go, it almost felt like he was the only thing that kept me standing, my knees felt like jelly. Bob on the other hand was still on the war path and I couldn't let him hurt Patrick.

"If you loved him so much, then why did you do it?" Bob asked him.

"They told me not to say," Patrick whispered. I could feel my blood run cold. My hands fell completely off of Bob's shoulders.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

I felt Bart's hands start to tremble and his grip on my shoulders was gone so I took that as a cue that I could be as much of an ass as I wanted. Gripping tighter to Patrick's shirt I walked him over to a wall and roughly pinned him against it. Looking over Bart he was standing like a deer in head lights.

"Okay. Now listen I know that you know who is trying to kill Bart and if you don't tell me and Bart dies it will be your fault. Can you honestly live with that on your shoulders?" I asked him a whisper so Bart couldn't be able to hear me. Patrick shook his head and his long blonde hair hid his eyes.

"They told me if I killed Bart that they would give me a one way ticket out of Tornstone School…" he whispered. He looked at me through his shaggy bangs and gripped my collar like I was doing to him and gave me a pleading look. "But I couldn't do it, it drove me insane, I considered it, the day I tried to rape Bart was the day I planned to kill him too but I just could not do it…I loved him too much."

The look in his eyes told me that he was telling the truth. I lessened my grip on him but still held him against the wall.

"Then will you tell me who made you that deal?" I asked him, trying to get my temper back under control. Patrick let go of my shirt but did not stop looking at me, in fact I would go as far as to say that he was looking at me intensely.

"There was a woman and a man and the man looked like you a little, at least in the face," he explained. "Their names are Franchesca and Cecil Terwilliger."

My eyes got wide and I put Patrick back down on the floor. I rubbed my forehead and looked back to Bart who hadn't moved from the spot he was standing at earlier.

'_My brother and ex-wife are to blame for this madness?' _I asked myself. I looked over at Patrick who was looking at me questioningly.

"Thank you for your time…it's about time we get going," I told him. I walked over to Bart and out a protective arm over his small shoulders. We made it half way back to the limo before I heard someone running up behind us.

"Wait! Please!" I heard Patrick yell. Bart and I both stopped and watched as Patrick caught up to us gasping for air.

"What is it Patrick?" Bart asked, worry in his voice. Without warning Patrick reached forward and grabbed Simpson into a hug. He held him tightly and Bart stood there in shock. Patrick stepped back and looked down at him. He bent down and captured Bart's lips in his. I could feel my temper getting the best of me; I turned away from the display.

"I know I have no right to say this but I still love you." I heard Patrick whisper. I rolled my eyes at him but I still wanted to punch him square in the face but I refrained myself from doing so. Before Bart had to time to answer him I stepped between the two of them and pushed him towards the limo.

"Simpson will get back to you on a later date," I told him, while waving.

"Thanks Bob, I didn't know how to act back there," Bart said. I glanced down at him and saw that he was softly smiling. I found it to be quite endearing. We walked back to the limo in a comfortable silence, I didn't realize that I had my arm around his shoulders the whole time while we were walking until I had to let him go to get in.

I walked to the front of the limo and knocked on the window. The young lad rolled down the window but he looked kind of nervous.

"Yes sir, where would you like me to take you?" He asked me, giving me a cheerful smile. I shook my head and decided that I was just being paranoid and thought he looked nervous.

"Yes, would you be so kind as to take us to the Springfield police station?" I asked him. He nodded and rolled his window back up. I scratched my head in confusion but I left it at that, I was just over stressed.

'_As soon as we make it to the police station, we'll all be safe,' _I thought to myself with a small smile. I climbed into the limo and closed the door behind me. Looking over to where Bart should have been sitting my ex-wife sat with Bart bound and gagged, with a gun to his head.

"What are you doing here? Where is Evans?" I asked her, trying to seem like I was calm. Franchesca gave me a smile and pointed to the floor. I looked over and saw that Evans was badly beaten up and he was tied and gagged as well.

The window to the driver rolled down and I looked up to see my brother Cecil, pointing a gun at the driver. He hadn't changed at all since the last time I saw him. The driver had started the limo and was driving away from the school.

"Where are we going?" I asked the two of them.

"It's nice to see you too brother dear," Cecil smirked. I glared daggers into him and stood up to take charge but Franchesca pulled Bart closer to the gun and gave me a sickly sweet smile.

"Not so fast Bob, you wouldn't want anything to happen to this little bitch would you?" she asked me. Slowly sitting back down I raised my hands to show that I did not want any trouble. Franchesca looked at me like I had slapped her in the face but I didn't know either to ask or keep quiet.

"Do you not want him dead?" She asked me. I was startled by her question, I didn't know why she was asking such a thing. I looked down at Bart and saw that he was staring back at me with frightened eyes. I wanted to protect him.

"Why on earth would you ask such a thing?" I asked her, trying to keep myself from yelling.

"He ruined your life brother, we both thought you would want him dead," Cecil explained. I looked back to Bart and saw that he was still looking at me with the same eyes, like he was afraid that I would change my mind. I looked up at Franchesca and back to Cecil.

"I don't want him to die, not on my watch." I told them. I felt something hard hit me beside the head and I fell to the floor, I looked up to see my own son Gino glaring down at me, I didn't have time to register anything else while my world went dark.

My vision was a bit hazy when I woke up but I was able to regain enough sense to realize that I was tied to a chair and that I was also in a dank old ware house with only a few over head lights that actually worked. So it made the whole place look more ghostly then I first realized.

"I can see you're finally up." I heard Franchesca from somewhere on the top over look. Her light footsteps echoed in the spacious room right behind me, she walked closer and closer to me until she was standing right behind me. Her hands ran through my hair a few times and finally she gripped my hair by the roots and pulled my head back sharply.

"Gahhh! That hurts." I yelled. Opening my eyes I saw that she was smiling down at me. She was as beautiful as the first day I saw her.

"If you think this hurts Bob wait until you see this," She told me. She snapped my head up and a few more overhead light come on to show me that Evans was tied into a chair right across from me, he was still passed out.

"This is supposed to hurt? Watching a guy who is passed out?" I asked with a smirk.

"No, this is," I heard Cecil off to my right. Without warning another light came on beside Evans to show Bart, still awake and looking like a frightened little bunny. I could feel my heart stop for a second. Cecil came up beside Bart and slapped him across the face. Struggling against the rope, I tried to get over to stop him.

Cecil reached over and grabbed a metal baseball bat and hit Bart right in the gut. It made the boy lunge forward, tears were flowing down his face and he was having trouble breathing. I could tell from the choking sound he was making.

"Please stop!" I begged. There was nothing else in the room but me and Bart and I was desperate to reach him. And that's when everything clicked together in my brain, the reasoning behind me acting and felling jealous whenever Bart was around someone else. When he was sleeping at Krusty's summer home and I almost kissed him. And the warning Maggie gave me.

"_Make sure you don't fall in love with him."_

It all made sense, every last detail.

"I'm in love with Bart Simpson…" I whispered quietly to myself. I looked up to see that both my brother and ex-wife were giving me odd looks. My brother walked over to me angrily, with the baseball bat still in hand.

"After everything this little past put you through why do you still want him a live?!" He shouted. I didn't know how to answer him so I just stayed quiet and looked at the floor. Cecil walked back over to Bart and brought his bat up to hit him again.

"The reason I want him a live is because I love him!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Franchesca and Cecil both looked at me in shock. I looked to Bart to see that he was looking right at me.

"Is that so?" Cecil smirked. He dropped the bat and walked out so he was between Bart and I, Cecil looked at him and me, like he was trying to figure something out. Finally he pulled a pistol put of his belt buckle and pointed it at Bart's head while looking at me.

"So I guess if Bart were to die, you would want to die too, right?" He asked me, I could hear in his voice that Cecil was slowly losing his mind. "I always wanted a way to get rid of you and Bart; I think this will work out just fine."

I struggled against the rope on my hands as Cecil lined up the shot. That's when I felt a small hand on my shoulder, looking to my side I saw Gino with a scared look on his face. He bent down and started to cut through the ropes with a small pocket knife.

"Don't worry daddy, I'm almost through cutting this," he whispered. I looked up at Franchesca who was too preoccupied by Cecil to notice our son. Just as soon as Gino had cut through the ropes a gun shot went off. My whole body froze. I watched at the bullet headed straight for Bart but at the last second Evans bounded out of his chair and shielded him with his own body, he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

I quickly ran over to Cecil and punched in the face, which sent the gun flying out of his hands, kicking him in the knee so hard that I felt the bone break, Cecil wailed as he fell to the floor. I was about to finish him when I felt a gun on my back.

"Stop, right now." Franchesca told me. I raised my arms up to show I was no threat. "Turn around."

Doing what she told me, I slowly turned around. She was glaring daggers into me.

"Why did you do this Bob? We did this for you; we thought you wanted him dead. We were even hoping you would help us. How in the hell can you fall in love with someone like him?" She asked me, the gun trembled her hand.

"We're you both in charge of trying to kill Bart?" I asked her. I knew it was the wrong place and time for questioning but I just had to know. She gave me a small smirk.

"Yes, in fact, I was the one who tried to shoot him but thanks to Homer's damn sneeze it missed him just by an inch," she told me. "I guess now I have to kill you too."

I glared at her, as she leveled the gun on me.

"Good bye Bob."

A gun shot sounded and I flinched, waiting for the pain but nothing happened. I looked up and as Franchesca fell to the floor with a bullet wound in her head.

"Damn bitch." I heard Evans mumbled. Running over to him I kneeled down beside him.

"Thanks Evans," I told him. He smirked and winced in pain.

"Thank me when we're out of here, now get Bart to safety," he told me. I nodded and got up. Gently untying the robes around his wrists, I pulled Bart into my arms and held him tight.

"I'm so glad you're okay." I said. Bart held tightly onto me and he started to shake from his sobs.

"It's okay, I've got you." I whispered. "I've got you."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for this chapter being a little bit late but I hope that everyone liked this chapter. <strong>


	29. Ch 29 Hospitals

POV: Bart

Bob called 911, while he held me tightly against his chest. After he hung up the phone he lifted my legs off the ground and I winced in pain. He stopped in his tracks, I didn't know if he was looking at me or not, my eyes closed tightly from the pain. His grasp on me loosened up and I got scared he was going to leave me so I snuggled closer to his chest but that caused more pain to shoot through my body.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" He asked me frantically. I groaned, not being able to speak. He gently laid me down on the ground and I pried my eyes open to see that his eyes were shining from unshed tears. My own eyes stung and I let more tears fall down my face.

"H-hurt…" I groaned. My chest hurt the worse and my lungs were on fire so I didn't know if anything else was injured. I felt Bob's hand go under my neck and lift my head up slowly and placed it on his lap.

"I know…but don't worry, the ambulance and the police will be here soon and everything will be fine, I promise," he told me but I could hear his voice shake close to the end of his sentence. I smirked up at him and chuckled weakly through my tears.

* * *

><p>POV: Bob<p>

Even though Bart was crying he was looking up at me with that half assed smirk of his. His lips moved but nothing came out but then I realized that I he was probably having trouble speaking up. I leaned closer, putting my ear next to his mouth and he whispered what he had tried to say.

"You…are a terrible…liar…" His voice faded. I leaned up and looked down at his face. The tears had stopped but so did his now still chest. I put my finger to his neck searching for a pulse but I could not feel one. I quickly put his head to the ground and started doing CPR on him.

I put my mouth to his and breathed into his lungs. I pumped his heart three times and repeated this several times. Tears were trailing down my cheeks and neck.

"You are not going to die on me!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. A few more attempts, Bart finally coughed and up with it came blood. I turned his body to the side so he wouldn't choke and tried to figure out what happened to cause this. My eyes saw a different shade of red on his red shirt and pulled it up.

A bullet wound was right next to Bart's heart.

"Oh God…" I stared down at the boy's chest and my brain went blank.

_Shock….I am going into shock._

Everything seemed to slow down. The door to the building was being opened; policemen and paramedics were walking towards me. Even though it looked like they should be running. I wanted to scream at them to help us and damn it, hurry up but my mouth would not listen to me, so I sat there on my knees while a few men in hospital clothes knelt down beside Bart's motionless body and carried him away on a stretcher.

Another one was by my side, his mouth was moving slowly but nothing was coming out, I could only hear static but I didn't care. The man helped me to my feet and surprisingly my body listened and I stood, I wasn't moving but I was up. He touched my numb arm, looking at me concerned, I think he was asking me if I was okay but I didn't know so I just looked at him. It looked like he yelled for something or someone. Another person, a woman pulled me away from where I was and walked me outside.

I looked behind me and saw that Evans was being carried out on a stretcher; his eyes were closed and had a neck brace on, I looked at his chest and saw that it was raising and falling but that didn't seem to matter, nothing mattered. The woman still had a grip on my arm and was leading me to an ambulance; she helped me in and sat me down on the white bench inside.

I looked around and saw that everything in the ambulance was to white. The color white meant purity, innocent and I could not even imagine how many died in the back of that vehicle, so many people bleeding, dying in this pure white room.

'_Bart is dying in one of these things….' _I heard a small voice. The first voice I heard over the static and it was one of such sadness, it made my heart ache. I looked over at the woman whose voice was still mute to me, that's when I realized that the sad voice was my own thought.

I shook my head and grip my hair at the roots, lost in my own fear and sadness; it was such a lonely place to be.

"…Sir …sir…" Through the static and my fearful thoughts came a normal voice. My eyes widen, I let go of my hair and looked over at the woman who had helped me. Her kind eyes looked into my own and she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She asked me in the same normal voice I heard just seconds before. I sighed and leaned against the wall behind me, the cool metal calmed me a bit.

"What happened?" I asked her, even though I already knew I went into shock but I just wanted to make sure. The young woman got out a slip board and flipped through a few papers.

"You went into shock, not that I blame you, I think anyone would have," she told me in a kind voice. Despite myself I gave her a small smile and sighed again.

"What is your name?" I asked her.

"I should be asking you that but my name is Jenny," she told me. "What's your name?"

"Bob Terwilliger," I said. She gasped and a huge smile popped up on her face.

"No wonder you look so familiar! I love you're show!" She cheered. I could feel a small smile pull at my lips. I reached out my hand and took her hand in mine and kissed the top.

"Thank you, always great to meet a fan," I smiled. Her cheeks lit up with a blush.

"Jenny, I know you're star struck but will you please do your job!" Yelled the driver, Jenny's blush disappeared and her professional face came on.

"Sorry about that," she told me while looking down at the clipboard she was holding earlier.

"It's alright," I told her smiling. I seemed to have forgotten something but for the life of me I could not remember what it was about.

"You seem to be in better shape than that man and boy we found at the location," she told me with a sad voice. That's when my mind completely remembered everything. It seemed like the shock I went into blocked my mind of anything that had caused it, that explained why I didn't remember to ask about Evans or…Bart.

"Are the other two okay?" I asked. I knew my voice was shaky and I probably looked like I could cry any second but I needed to know. Jenny looked up at me, worried was written all over her face.

"I'm not sure, all that I am sure of is that they were both shot, the older male was hit in the spinal cord and the bullet went through him and hit the younger boy close or if not in the heart," she told me. My body completely sagged at the news. I didn't go into shock but I did cry. I felt Jenny pat my back, trying to feed me reassuring words but I didn't want any of them.

I didn't have the balls to ask any other questions about their conditions or even if Jenny could give me answers so I just sat there preparing myself for the worst. We made to the hospital quickly and I was ushered into a wheelchair upon arrival. Jenny pushed me into the hospital and left me in an emergency room of my own. I didn't have the energy to move from the wheelchair so I didn't.

Soon enough another doctor came in. Got me into one of those God awful gowns, inspected me, took me down to get a few x-rays and wheeled me back up to my room. The doctor told me I had a small concussion, a few cuts and bruises but other than that I was fine. A policeman came in after the doctor left.

"Mr. Terwilliger, I am here to ask you a few questions and you are welcome to ask any of your own after my own, okay?" Asked the policeman, I nodded and waited. He got out a file and looked through it, looking like he was trying to find something.

"Okay…first question, who shot Ms. Terwilliger?"

"Evans did but it was because she was going to shot me," I told him. He nodded at me and wrote something down.

"Okay, who shot Evans and Bart Simpson?"

"Cecil Terwilliger."

"Who inflected the injuries to Cecil Terwilliger?"

"I did and it is because he was going to kill Bart." I told him, trying to keep my voice even. We haven't even gotten that far into the questioning but I was already over it. The policeman wrote something else down and looked back to me.

"Were Mr. and Mrs. Terwilliger the people trying to kill Bart Simpson?"

"Yes."

"Do you want custody of your son, Gino Terwilliger?"

"Yes. I would. Where is he?" I asked.

"He is with the Simpson family right now that was the only people we could think of that could watch over him for the time being." I nodded my head in understanding.

The policeman kept asking questions of that nature for about an hour, finally he got to the last question.

"Okay, Mr. Terwilliger, last question. What is your relationship with Bart Simpson?" I felt my mouth get dry and I tried to answer but I couldn't bring myself to. A few seconds of silence, the policeman looked up at me with a confused look.

"Mr. Terwilliger?"

_My relationship with Bart Simpson is a simple one; at least it used to be. The boy had a way to make me happy and at the same time more pissed off then Homer without his morning donut. I can't see myself living another day without making sure that he is happy and smiling. _

I shook my head and sighed.

"My relationship with Bart Simpson is family/friend oriented." I told him with a straight, even though my heart was breaking from lying. The policeman wrote something then closed the folder and left after thanking me.

I sat in the wheelchair in the lonely hospital room for about another hour until a nurse poked her head in. She had a kind, open face, with short snow white hair. She must have worked for the hospital for many years because she had a calming effect on people, or at least on me she did.

"Hello Mr. Terwilliger." She said her voice was raspy but sweet.

"Hello there young lady," I smiled. She smirked and rolled her eyes, I liked her spunk.

"Would you like to go see your friends?" She asked me. My eyes widen and just stared at her. She gave me a motherly look and rubbed my back.

"It's okay if you don't want to," she told me. I shook my head and looked over my shoulder at her.

"I would like to see them." She nodded and wheeled me out of my room. We rode the elevator up to the fifth floor and she pushed me through a few hallways that were filled with people in gowns that looked just like mine but they looked sicker, weaker and a few even had wrappings on almost all of their body.

"What is this floor for?" I asked in a whisper. The nurse leaned down so her mouth was right beside my ear and whispered back.

"This floor is for people who have lost function in their limb or limbs."

My heart stopped for a second and all of a sudden I got a sudden urge to throw up but I held it down. Before I could ask my nurse which of my 'friends' we were seeing first, she rolled me into a room and saw Evans laying in the bed. A sigh of relief passed through my lips.

"Hey Mr. Terwilliger," Evans smiled at me weakly. My nurse pushed me over by his side and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hey Evans, how are you doing?" He tried to shrug his shoulders but it didn't really work so it looked like he was trying to get a fly off his shoulder. If the situation wasn't so upsetting I would have chuckled at him.

"I can't complain. The bullet missed all my vital organs," he told me. He sounded tired but who could blame him, after everything we've all been through.

"That's good," I said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood but it didn't work because a dark look came over his face.

"They also told me that I will never be able to walk again. The bullet hit me right in the middle of my spine so it's completely severed," he said in an angry voice. I didn't know how to comfort him or even if he wanted me to. It was silent in the room for a while, just the two of us sitting there, trying to wrap our minds about what happened.

"Have you heard anything about Bart?" I asked him, I didn't mean to be so blunt but I could not help myself, I had to know. Evans closed his eyes and softly smiled.

"Bart is fine, they took him straight into surgery went he got here, they stopped the bleeding. The doctor thinks he should make a full recovery, Bart does need help a tube to help him breathe at the moment and to drain the blood out of his lungs but they should be taking him off of that sometime later this week. His doctor came and told me," he explained. I felt myself get a little pissed that Evans found out before me but I wasn't going to say anything. Before I could say anything else Evans started to chuckle.

"Oh and by the way Bob, you own."

I looked up at him, confused of what he could be talking about. He looked at me and he rolled his eyes.

"For such a smart guy, you're an idiot," he mumbled. I was shocked by what he said and was about to correct him when he spoke up. "Bart chose you."

I looked at Evans, who was looking me right in the eyes. His gaze never broke from mine. Shaking my head, thinking I heard him wrong, I was about to laugh at him but when I met his eyes again, I knew he was being serious.

"Who do you know?" I asked him. I didn't know why I asked but I just wanted to know why I the world Bart would actually chose me.

"We rode together in ambulance and well the paramedics were getting his medicines figured out, he was half conscious, I kept trying to talk to him but he kept saying the same thing over and over again. 'What are you doing! Bob won't be able to find me if you take me way!' And 'Where is Bob? Is he okay?' That's all he kept saying before the nurses knocked him out," Evans told me.

I sat there in shock not sure what to say or do. Evans moved and pushed a button on his bed and my nurse came back in and looked walked over to Evans.

"What is it dear?" She asked him. He smiled up at her and shook his head.

"No ma'am but Bob would like to go see our other friend now, if that's okay?" She smiled at him and fluffed his pillows before walking back over to me.

"That is no trouble." She was wheeling me out of the room but I looked behind me to my…friend in the bed. He gave me a small smile and gave me thumbs up; I gave him one back just before he was out of my sight. We got back on the elevator and rode it down to floor three. This time I kept quiet as she wheeled me through the hallways, finally we came to the last room on the hallway and she pushed me in. I could feel tears burn my eyes.

Bart lay in the hospital bed; a blue tube was pushed down his throat, to help him breathe. Bandages and gauze were all over his face and body. He looked like a rag doll that a kid had ran over with their bike a few times. His chest fell up and down, in an easy pattern. He didn't look fine but I knew he would be.

Without asking if I could I got out of my wheelchair and ran over to him. I didn't want to touch him afraid that he would crumble from the gentlest touch but I wanted to make sure that he was really there and I wasn't just going crazy. As careful as I could I grazed his arm with my fingertips. He didn't respond to the gesture but he was really there. Tears slipped down my face and I sat down in the seat beside his bed. I laid my head down in my arms and cried.

_He's safe. He's okay. _

"B…Bob…."

I looked up to see that his eyes were open and was looking right at me. We kept our eyes locked on each other. There was nothing but silence in the room. I was too afraid that I would say something stupid.

"B-bob…..I-I love…..you…too…." Bart mumbled and then his eyes closed and he passed out again. I softly smiled at his sleeping form, stood up and kissed his forehead.

"I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

><p>POV: Bart<p>

"You…are a terrible…liar…" That's the last thing I remembered before my world completely dimmed. I floated in the darkness, it almost felt like water. A light appeared ahead of me and I opened my eyes to see what almost looked like a spot light. I swam towards it, I reached out my hand about to touch when the water disappeared and I was drowning in pain. I wanted to go back to the warm water.

"You are not going to die on me!" I heard a man yell. He sounded so sad. I started to cough and the pain intensified. Someone turned me to my side and I kept coughing up and I tasted copper in my mouth. Cold air touched my stomach and I flinched.

"Oh God…" The man spoke again.

_No wait…that's not just any man…that's Bob…I need to tell him that I love him too…I don't know for how long…maybe I always had…I need to get up…get up…get…up…._

I don't know where I was when I opened my eyes but there were people all around me talking with big words. Another voice, more familiar joined the voices but I couldn't place it.

_Almost sounds like Evans._

I dulled them all out and tried to get their attention but no one seemed to notice. Some people shined a bright light in my eyes and I thought it was my chance.

"What are you doing? Bob won't be able to find me if you take me way!" I told them urgently but they just acted like I didn't say anything. "What is going on? Help Bob."

The people just looked down at me and started hooking things into my arms. It felt like bees were stinging me, maybe it was bees I wasn't sure.

"Where is Bob? Is he okay?" I asked. The bee stings were making me sleepy but I tried to keep my eyes opened. "Please….h-help…Bob…"

The next time I woke up, there were different people around but they had pretty much the same clothes on. The pain in my chest was unbearable and the next thing I knew more bees stung me and a mask was put over my mouth.

My eyes would not listen to me when I wanted to open them. The pain in my chest was not nearly as bad and I felt like I could breathe better but there was something in my mouth, keeping me from closing my mouth all the way. I heard a small sound, almost like crying, it sounded like Bob.

_Oh…yeah…I have to tell….Bob…that I love…him…_

Finally my eyes opened and my eyes landed on the source of the crying. I tried to move my arm to get his attention but my arm would not listen, so instead I tried my voice.

"B…Bob…." I mumbled quietly, I was afraid that he didn't hear it but Bob slowly raised his head and his eyes locked on mine. I tried to smile but I felt too weak. I tried to talk again but it didn't work so I pushed myself a little harder.

"B-bob…..I-I love…..you…too…." I told him. That was all my body could muster before my eyes closed against my will but I tried to stay awake. Before my body completely stopped ignoring my brain I felt someone gently kiss my forehead.

"I'll be waiting for you." I heard Bob whisper and if I wasn't so tired I would have gone to sleep smiling.

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><p><strong>I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. All reviews are welcomed. :)<strong>


	30. Ch 30 Things Happen

**A warning to everyone, in this chapter there is a lemon between Bob and Bart (finally!) so if you're not into reading that type of thing please don't. Sorry for this chapter being so long but it kind of got out of my control, anyways I hope you all enjoy. :)**

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><p><em>Three weeks later-<em>

POV: Bob

Bart was sitting in his bed, complaining to one of the nurse's, saying that he was tired of sitting in bed and he wanted to go outside. The nurse explained to him in a friendly tone that he would be able to go outside later that day; he just crossed his arms and pouted. A soft smile pulled at me lips as I walked into the room.

"It's only ten in the morning Bart, don't worry, there's plenty of time left in the day," I chuckled. His face lit up with a smile for a second but went right back to pouting, his mood seemed to be better though.

"I know but I'm getting stir crazy here!" He yelled and hit his fists against his mattress. The nurse only smiled and shook her head as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Walking over to him I could not help but take note of how cute he looked. I sat down in the chair be his bed and smirked.

"I can see that you're driving the nurse's here crazy." Bart looked up at me and smiled.

"Well yeah, if I didn't, they would be worried." I shook my head at his logic, because in some way it actually made since. Bart's demeanor changed after the door was closed. He stopped pouting and turned on the television. We both sat in a comfortable silence watching a mindless game show.

"I think Evans hates me," Bart mumbled. Looking over, I saw that instead of watching the game show he was staring at his hands, his eyes brimming with tears. Reaching over I covered his hands with mine. Bart's bottom lip was trembling and he looked like he would burst into tears at any moment. It almost like he was silently begging me to comfort him.

Pulling back the blankets and climbing into bed beside him, I opened my arms to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and started too sobbed into my chest. I sat there, letting him cry as much as he wanted. Tears were soaking my shirt but I didn't care, I just held on to him tighter, tethering him to me.

Bart pulled away from me, hiding his face in his hands.

"Can you hand me a tissue?" I reached over to the night stand, got a couple and handed them to him. He blew his nose and wiped the rest of his tears away. He looked up at me and smiled, like he was embarrassed that I saw him like that; his eyes were blood shot red, so were his lips, it only made him look far more precious.

As gently as I could I cupped his face in both of my hands and brushed my lips over his. Bart's bright blue eyes looked at me surprised but he recovered quickly and melted into my arms. He wrapped both arms around my neck pulling me closer. I put one of my arms around his waist and the other went to the back of his neck. I felt a shiver go down his back. Pulling away, I looked down and saw that the rest of his tears were gone but lust showed in his eyes.

"I want more." I held him close and sighed, I had to control myself but God knows I didn't want to.

"I know and so do I but we have to be patient." I said, trying to keep my arousal to myself. Bart leaned against me.

"Evans doesn't hate you by the way." Bart looked up at me with a shocked expression, he was about to say something but I put my finger to his lips stopping him.

"I promise you. He is not mad; he's more shocked than anything else." Bart looked up at me with curious eyes. "How would you feel if you were told that you wouldn't be able to walk again?"

Bart pulled away from me and wrapped his arms around himself. I didn't mean to be harsh but sometimes I had to be, for him to understand something. Shock, anger, and sadness all played on his face.

"I don't know how I would feel…" He whispered. I waited for him to continue, which eventually he did. "I think I would be shocked but also angry. I'm the reason he got shot in the first place, that's why he hates me, he has every right to."

I sighed and ran a hand down my face. Bart could be so difficult sometimes it wasn't even funny. Gently putting my hands on his shoulders, he looked up at me.

"Would you like to go see him?" I asked him. Bart's eyes grew wide and he quickly shook his head. I got up from his bed and headed out to the hallway. He called out to me but I kept walking, I had to settle whatever was going on with Evans.

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><p>POV: Evans<p>

I sat alone in my hospital room trying to move my toes but sadly like every other day nothing happened. It felt weird that I could not feel my legs but I could still see them. Tears were prickling at my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Before I could try again someone knocked on my door.

"Come in."

Bob walked in with a serious look on his face. I didn't know what he wanted but it probably had something to do with Bart and that made me scared that something had happened to him.

"What are you doing here? Is Bart okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even but it was obvious that I was worried. Bob rolled his eyes at me and sat down at the foot of my bed, I could tell that he wasn't in the mood for any of this but for some reason there he was sitting on my hospital bed, glaring at me.

"Bart is crying because of you. He thinks you hate him." If my jaw could drop to the floor I'm sure it would have. I shook my head and looked at Bob waiting to see if he was joking with me to make me feel bad but then I realized that he would never joke around when it came to Bart's feelings.

"Why does he think that?" Bob just looked at me. After a few minutes of neither of us saying anything Bob finally stood up and grabbed the wheelchair from the corner of my room. He pushed it right up next to my bed and looked down at me.

"He said that he knows he's the reason for you getting shot in the first place and I think it's been eating at him for weeks now but he just kept it to himself. And I know that it's not your fault that he feels this way but you have to make him see that you're not angry so he can start healing."

I threw my blankets off me but I could not do anything else. Bob left the room to get some nurses; two young ladies came in and helped me to my chair. The older one of two, which was probably around thirty told Bob to be gentle and that if I started to complain of pain in my lower back to let one of the doctors know immediately. Bob smiled and flirted his way past the two nurses while pushing my wheelchair.

When we were alone in the elevator, I chuckled.

"I have no idea how you got them to agree to this, they won't even let me leave the room without two different nurses let alone some random guy, who claims to be my friend."

"That's just it my dear Evans, you need to learn to use what you got to your disposal." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"That's easy for you Bob. You have that regale demeanor about you. You make people think and you are a complete asshole but somehow you can get whatever or whoever you want. Someone like me, I would be lucky to have someone pay attention to me for just a couple of seconds." I could feel my whole self-esteem drop to the floor.

"Whoever you just talked about does not sound like the person Bart talks about. The Evans Bart talks about is kind and is willing to give the shirt off his back to anyone," Bob whispered. I could feel my heart start to beat faster.

"Did Bart really say that?"

"Yes he did." I could hear the smile in his voice. Tears were in my eyes again but it was because I was over the moon with joy. "Now the Evans I know is tough as nails, brave as they come and would give his life for the people he loves."

Bob softly put his hand on my shoulder and pat it.

"You're a good man Evans…but if you ever make Bart cry again, I will hurt you." He whispered in the darkest voice I have ever heard but I found myself smiling.

"Right back at you Bob."

The rest of the ride up to Bart's floor was quiet, finally we made it up and bob pushed me onto the floor. He pushed me straight to Bart's room; the door was open so I saw him before he saw me. His face was still a little bruised and he looked smaller, if that was possible but other than that he hadn't changed.

"Knock, knock." Bob called cheerfully, Bart turned to us, the smile that was on his face was gone in an instant and he just stared at me. He recovered slowly and a small smile pulled at his lips.

"H-hey Evans, what are you doing here?" He asked in a small voice. My heart almost broke from it but I kept a smile on my face. I pointed to Bob behind me.

"He brought me here." I told him, trying to break the tension in the room but it wasn't working. Bob pushed me over closer and put me right beside Bart. I looked up at him but he wasn't even looking in my direction, instead he was looking out his window. Bob walked around to the other side of the bed and gently took Bart into his arms, I turned away, not wanting to see anymore.

"It's okay, I'm sorry I did this but you had to see for yourself." I heard Bob whisper. Neither of them said anything, I was startled when someone poked my shoulder. I jumped in my chair and turned to see Bart looking at me like he was afraid to say anything.

"What is it Bart?" I asked. Bart's blue eyes looked into my brown ones and I saw at once how sorry he was. With a hesitant hand I reached up and put it on his shoulder, his eyes grew wide and looked at me not saying anything.

"It's okay Bart; it's not your fault." Smiling at him with every fiber of my being, I didn't want anything more than just to see Bart be happy again, like back when we first met at the school.

"Yes it is…if I never pissed off the wrong people none of this would have ever happened," he told me, his voice was getting higher, from trying to keep himself from crying. I patted his shoulder and smiled.

"If you never pissed off the wrong people I would have never met you and you…you would have never met Bob." I explained. Bart's eyes got wide and looked at me, I could tell that somewhere deep inside he knew I was right, even though he didn't want to admit it.

"But…" Bart mumbled. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Don't you get it Bart, even if you could go back in time and change something I would stop you. I don't regret anything that happened to me, even though I can't walk, you're safe and that's all I ask for, for you to be happy and safe. So please don't blame yourself okay?"

I looked up at him, making sure that I was being serious. A small smile appeared on his face and a few tears crept down his checks but nothing could change my feelings towards him, not that I would ever tell him or anybody that.

"I get it Evans and thank you for saving my life," he told me. I smiled at him and tried my best to keep my tears myself.

"You don't have to thank me." Before I knew what was happening, Bart leaned over and kissed my forehead.

"Thanks Evans." He whispered. I could feel my heart pick up speed; I was hoping that it wasn't obvious to either of them.

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><p><em>One week later-<em>

POV: Bart

After spending so many weeks in the hospital I was finally told that I could go home. I was jumping for joy because I could not wait to see my family again, not that I didn't see that in the hospital but I wanted to show them that I was doing fine by myself.

I was packing up the rest of my things when I felt arms slip around me; I leaned against his chest and just relaxed completely. Looking up at Bob I could tell that he was in a really good mood. He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead.

"Hey there," he told me, still smiling. I snuggled up against him.

"Hi."

"Are you ready to go home?" He asked. Nodding my head I packed up the rest of my things and headed out of the room that I had been in for four weeks. Bob and I made it down to the lobby before I remembered that I had something to do before I left. I handed the rest of my things over to him.

"I'll be right back Bob but I have to do something real quick," I told him as I walked back to the elevator.

I walked right to Evans room and saw that he was looking out the window from his new wheelchair. Knocking on the door and he turned right to me with a smile.

"Hey, I heard from some nurses that you're leaving today," he said. I nodded and walked over to him.

"That's good, they said that I should be getting out of here soon, I just have to learn to use this damn chair." I could tell he was joking and I tried to laugh along with him but I could not help but feel bad. Because in the deepest, darkest part of myself I knew that I would never be able to forgive myself not that I would ever tell Evans.

"How is that muscle therapy going anyways?" He just shrugged his shoulders at me and turned his chair so he was facing me.

"It's going good, I know how to turn in this thing now and how not to knock things over." He smiled up at me. Finally the question I was dying to ask came out.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked. Evans smile faltered and he looked to the floor.

"I'm not sure, I mean I could go back to working for Krusty but I am not much help now." My heart broke for him, he didn't deserve, this sweet man who had helped me at school when I felt like I could not go on.

"That's why I'm here. I was wondered if after you get out if you would want to live with me and my family. I already talked to them about it and they said that they were fine with it," I told him. Evans looked up at me with a smile on his face.

"Thank you Bart but I am afraid that I must decline."

"Why?" I asked, feeling kind of hurt.

"Well, you see, Bob had already asked me to move in with him, I'm going to be Gino's new sitter starting in a few weeks once I'm released." He explained. I smiled at him at him and patted his shoulder.

"I'm glad to hear that Evans."

We talked for a bit longer but I got texted from Bob saying that he was going to leave without me if I didn't get my ass down stairs, I said goodbye to Evans and headed back. Bob was waiting in his car in front of the doors. I jumped into the car, gave him a hug and a quick kiss.

"Thanks for doing that for Evans." Bob only smiled at me and kissed my forehead.

"I could tell that it was bothering you for a while so I decided to take care of it and don't worry, I'll be nice," he chuckled. Bob drove me to my house and parked in the drive way. We both sat in a comfortable silence for a little bit.

"Well I better get inside," I told him while grabbing the door handle. He reached over and pulled the car door shut, looking over at him I saw that he was giving smiling at me.

"Why don't we go on a date tonight to celebrate you getting out of the hospital?" I felt a blush light up on my face. I leaned closer so our lips almost touched.

"Just the two of us?" He leaned over and gently kissed me.

"Yes, just the two of us." I smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes, I would love to, I can't wait."

Bob helped me inside with my things and left, my mom told me to stay in my room and relax, not that I minded, that just gave me more time to think about my date tonight.

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><p>Before our date Bob texted me telling me to dress classy, I almost took offence to that but I let it slide. After taking a shower I put on a long sleeved purple shirt with black dress pants, I wore one of my better pairs of shoes and waited in my room.<p>

Bob texted me again around ten telling me that he was parked across the street. I smiled and opened my door, thankfully everyone seemed to be a sleep or in bed at the least, I quietly made my way down stairs to the front door.

"Bart? Where are you going?" I heard Maggie ask. I turned around and saw her looking at me from the top of stairs.

"Well you see…I wanted to go out and get some fresh air," I told her. Maggie raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

"Come one Bart, I'm you're little sister I know when you're lying to me." She said as she walked down the stairs. She circled me a few times, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. "And I can tell from what you're wearing that you're going on a date with, let me guess, Bob?"

I felt myself blush, Maggie smiled up at me and crossed her arms.

"I knew it! I knew you two had a thing for each other!" She cheered. I shushed her and looked at the top of the stairs to make sure no one heard her.

"Okay you got me but please Mags cover for me this once and I promise that we'll have a weekend for just you and me like when we were little, I promise," I begged her on my knees. Her smirk grew but I could tell that she was just teasing me now.

"Okay but I want it to happen this weekend," she told me. I nodded at her request not thinking twice about it.

"Okay, I promise this weekend." Maggie hugged me and patted my head.

"Okay, now go have fun with your boyfriend." She giggled and opened the front door for me. Before I got to far she called out to me, turning to her I saw her glowing under the full moon.

"I approve by the way." With that she closed the door and left me alone in the darkness. I looked around and saw Bob's sleek black car instantly. He was searching for something so he didn't see me until I tapped on his passenger's car window. He jumped and looked up at me. I got in and looked over at him and saw that he was wearing a black turtle neck with brown dress pants.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, hoping my voice didn't show how nervous I really was. Bob smiled at me and started the car.

"I want to take you is this great little restaurant near Shelbyville, is that okay?" He looked over at me.

"That's fine," I smiled. We drove for about forty-five minutes until we got to a place called, 'The Blue Moon.' It was a small classy looking place. Bob got out of the car and opened my door for me. He took my hand and led me inside. The inside of the place was beautiful.

It was all a dark magenta color, the house lights were low enough to enjoy the candle light at each table, it made me feel kind of out of place but I kept that thought to myself. A waitress came over and sat us at a round booth.

As we were looking over our menus people kept stealing glances at Bob. I was about to ask why but Bob beat me to it.

"There fans of the show most likely, don't let it bother you, it's just you and me tonight." I looked over my menu and saw Bob smiling at me, he winked at me and went back to looking, it just made me pull my menu closer to my face to hide my blushing.

Dinner went by slow because whenever Bob and I would start to talk about something someone at one of the other tables would come over and ask for an autograph. And Bob being the person he is didn't turn the people away. It was getting kind of annoyed but I kept it to myself until a girl with dark black hair and a ruby red dress came up to us.

"Hey boys, Mr. Terwilliger would you mind signing my napkin for me?" Everything about this was sexy, even her voice had a sexy tone to it and to make matters worse she looked a lot like Bob's ex-wife. Bob smiled at her, putting on his natural charm.

"Not at all my dear." The woman leaned over the table while he was writing it, showing her more than enough cleavage. I could feel my temper start to show its ugly head. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear and Bob smiled, I didn't want to see anymore, I got up and left.

I ran outside and down the road a bit before I stopped. Letting myself breathe for a moment I could not help but feel stupid for getting my hopes up. Tears stung my eyes but I got rid of them. I stood there not sure what to do until a car came up behind me and saw that it was Bob just like I thought. He kept his car going but parked right behind me, he got out and walked towards me.

"Bart, are you okay?" he asked. I turned away from him and looked at the ground.

"Of course I am, I was just watching the guy I love flirt with a whore! Yeah I'm fine!" I yelled. I crossed my arms and turned away from him. His feet shuffled against the gravel as he walked over, putting his arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry about back there, I truly am. But when that woman whispered to me, she wasn't flirting she was asking me if you were single." My eyes widened at what Bob said and I felt myself stiffen up. "And when she asked I had to compose myself or else I was going to yell and I didn't want to cause a scene."

I turned around and face him, my eyes looked up into his and I saw tears. Reaching up with a shaky hand I put my hand behind his head and brought him down for a kiss. I felt his arms go around my waist and he pulled me up closer to him, I threaded my fingers through his hair, deepening it. We both came up for air at the same time and looked at each other.

Without saying any words Bob and I went back to the car. He drove to Shelbyville; we rented a room on the top floor. Bob pulled me to the elevator and once we were alone he attacked me. His hands were all over me, he kissed my neck and collarbone. He rubbed my throbbing dick inside my pants and that sent a moan out of my mouth before I could stop it. Bob stopped and looked at me.

"I love that sound." He kissed me full on the mouth, plunging his tongue inside. I tried to fight him for dominance but he won hands down. When we finally made it to our floor, we raced to our room and didn't look back.

Once we were inside Bob unbuttoned my shirt and threw it to the floor while I peeled the sweater off of him. I slowly ran my hands down his bare chest and stomach, he had a six pack and it made him sexier. Bob shivered and caught my lips in a heated kiss. He pressed me up against the closest wall and put his leg in between mine. The pressure on my dick made me moan again, that made Bob kiss and bite my exposed neck and shoulders.

I shivered and gripped his hair by the roots, a shiver went down Bob's spine. He grabbed my butt so I could wrap my legs around his waist, as soon as I did, he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

He stopped kissing my neck and looked down at me. His hair was a mess but his eyes shined with worry. Bob gently stroked the side of my face.

"Are you sure you want to do this Bart? We can still stop." He whispered. I looked up at him and touched his shoulders with my hands, watching my hands move freely over his body gave me a new found courage. I looked him in the eyes and smiled.

"I want every part of you. I don't want to stop."

That seemed to be the thing Bob was waiting for because he kissed me slow but hard. He kissed down my neck to my nipple, he bit it and that made me moan. He smirked up at me.

"You're sensitive there, that's helpful information." He went back to licking and biting and the moans got louder. Slowly his other hand reached down, rubbing my dick through my jeans again. I could not stop the sound that escaped through my mouth. That only encouraged him more because he started to rub faster.

"Bob!" I moaned at the top of my lungs. Bob smiled up at me and started to kiss down my chest and stomach. He kissed down to my pants and unbuttoned them slowly; using his teeth he unzipped my jeans and in one swift movement pulled down my pants and boxers.

I shivered as my hard dick was released into the cold air. Bob seemed to enjoy this because he slowly ran one finger down the head to the base of my dick. I gripped the bed sheets and bit on my knuckles to stop myself from crying out in pleasure. Without skipping a beat Bob took my full length into his mouth, I had never felt something so wonderful in my whole life. He ran his tongue over the head and I could not stop myself from arching my back.

I reached down with my arms that felt like they were electrified and gripped his hair, trying to make him move his head. Bob grabbed my wrists and held them to the bed, without lifting his head. I tried to fight against his hands but he would not let go.

"Please! Bob!" I moaned loudly. Bob started to slowly, painfully move his head up and down. His tongue kept flicking over my leaking head. I arched my back, biting down my lower lip to keep myself from making sounds, biting down so hard that I broke the skin, tasting copper in my mouth. Bob began to move his head faster and sucking harder, I could not hold back my voice.

"OH! Bob!" I moaned. After a few minutes of him sucking and licking and of me moaning louder and louder, I came into his mouth. I never thought my back could arch as high as it did but I never felt something like that either. It wasn't like when Patrick used to do it. His way was fast and did it his way, Bob did it in a way he thought I would love it and he was right.

I collapsed my head against the bed and panted heavily. Bob left butterfly kisses over my stomach and chest as he came back up. He turned my head so I was looking him in the eyes and smiled down at me. I saw nothing but love and patient in his eyes; he gently leaned down and kissed me softly again.

I felt something warm and hard rub against the inside of thigh. Looking down I saw that Bob at some point had actually got rid of both his and my pants. A blush crept across my cheeks and I covered my face with my hands, to embarrassed to look at him. Bob gently grasped my wrists and took them away; he was looking at me with a look of pure love.

I shivered and closed my eyes, trying to figure out if I was dreaming or not. A shiver was sent down my spine as Bob bit down on my ear lobe, which surprised me. He kissed down my neck, under my chin, to my collarbone, that he bit down on. Bob reached down with one hand and started to put one of his fingers near my entrance.

I froze up and held tightly to him, afraid to let go. He got up close to my ear and kissed it.

"Relax. I'm trying to get you ready." He whispered. "I'll be gentle."

I laid against the bed, trying to calm myself down, Bob gently kissed me on the mouth and at the same put a single finger in. It felt weird but it didn't hurt much. After a while he put in another finger and I flinched at the small pain that shot up my body.

"It's okay, I've got you." I tried to relax my body again, which it worked because after pumping two of his fingers it stopped hurting and actually started to feel good. He started to scissor me and the pain came back for a bit but quickly left when he hit something inside me that made me moan and arch my back. Bob slowly took his fingers away, I whimpered for him but I knew I was going to get his dick soon enough.

He laid down on me and put his arms on both sides of my head, I felt him put his member at my entrance. I looked up at him, with tears in my eyes. I was scared but I wasn't going to tell him.

"You love me right?" I asked him. Bob's face lit up with a confused expression but melted into a soft smile. He answered me with a passionate kiss; I pulled him closer wanting to hold on to him. He pulled himself up and stroked my face.

"Of course I love you." He told me softly. He gave me a serious look. "If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?" I could only nod at him.

Bob slowly started to push himself inside. I felt the tip go in a little; he looked at me to make sure he wasn't hurting me. I smiled at him and nodded. He took that as my cue that he could keep going. I shut my eyes tightly at the burning pain but I didn't ask him to stop, I wanted all of him. Finally every last put of his dick was buried inside me.

"God Bart, you're so tight." He groaned. The pain subsided and I looked up at him to see that he was watching me. I nodded my head again and he nodded back. Very slowly he pulled half way out of me and pushed back in. A moan came out of me that I was not expecting, it was high pitched and girly. I didn't have time to think about it long because he pulled out a little farther and thrust back in. Arching my back, I threw my arms around him and pulled him down closer.

Bob grabbed my member and started to pump it in time with his thrusts that sent me even farther over into pleasure. I clawed at his back; Bob growled and started to move faster. The room was filled with our moans and the bed hitting the wall. He kept hitting this one spot inside me that kept making me see white, which made me moan louder and made him growl.

"Are you…almost there?" He panted. I opened my eyes, not sure when I closed them and looked at him.

"Yes!" I moaned, not able to stop myself. With that Bob started to thrust and pump faster, it didn't take much longer to send me over the edge. I came with a final loud moan, my cum covering both of our stomachs. Bob grabbed my hips and started thrusting like a wild animal. He growled one more time and came inside me. He panted and looked down at me with sweat on his brow.

Bob pulled out and laid down on the bed. He opened his arm and gestured me over, he didn't have to ask me twice. I snuggled against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

"I love you." I whispered. Bob kissed my forehead and laid his head on mine.

"I love you too, now and forever." I could hear the love in his voice. Smiling, I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It was my lullaby as I fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was a pain the butt to write but I'm glad that I got it done. This was the first lemon I have ever wrote so please don't be too harsh if it was bad, thank you. Reviews are welcomed.<strong>


	31. Ch 31 Nelson

**Hey everyone I hope that everyone had a good New Years. Sorry that this chapter is a few days late, hope everyone enjoys. :)**

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

"Bart, it's time to get up." Bob's voice broke through my dreaming. I snuggled closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of that moment. He chuckled at me and I felt his arms tighten around me. I don't think he wanted it to end either. But sadly all good things have to come to an end.

"Come on Bart, your family is going to start to worry." Sighing I looked up at him, he chuckled at me and kissed my forehead. He never looked sexier, except for last night but who was counting. Bob's hair looked like a stack of hay but for some reason it made him look younger.

"Sometimes I wonder why I fell for a guy like you." I said, mumbling under my breath. Bob smirked at me and grabbed my chin, moving my face closer to his.

"Because you knew that I would always love you." A blush came across my face before I could stop it. After a few more minutes of snuggled and saying sweet nothings to each other we got up and left for my house. We drove in silence, not that I minded, I just kept telling myself that this wasn't a dream and it was really happening. After about the tenth time of doing this I realized that it was really happening.

Bob pulled up in my drive way, smiling over at me. It wasn't even nine in the morning so the sun was just casting the first shadows of the day over Springfield and over Bob's face, which made him look even more enchanting if that was even possible.

"If you're going to keep staring I suggest you take a picture, they last a bit longer." He told me, a smirk pulling onto his face. I blinked my eyes a few times, just realizing that I was staring and that made me blush again, I looked away from him and stared at the cars dash board.

"I wasn't staring." I told him, trying not to act flustered. Bob gently grazed my cheek with his fingertips; I looked at him once again. He was giving me the most tender smile I have ever seen on his face, Bob leaned forward and caught my lips with his for a small passionate kiss, he pulled back and put his forehead against mine and smiled, I could not help but smile back.

"I really do love you." He whispered. It sounded so sweet and honest it made a few tears come to my eyes.

"I really love you too." I whispered back. I closed my eyes, letting myself soak in this moment so I could save it in my mind and treasure it. Bob kissed my forehead, got out of the car, opened my door and walked me to my house. He kissed my forehead once more and just looked down at me.

"I'll see you later this week, okay?" his eyes shined with love and that made me smile up at him.

"Okay, I'll see you Thursday night." Bob nodded and hugged me tightly. He left after that, leaving me alone on my front porch with my thoughts of this morning and last night, it made my heart soar with pure joy.

"Hey Bart!" I eyes snapped open, not knowing that I closed them in the first place and looked out to the sidewalk where Nelson stood. Despite myself I smiled at him and waved over to him.

"Hey Nelson, what are you doing here?" I asked. Nelson shrugged and walked across the yard. He come to a stop in front of me and just looked down at me, before I could brace myself he punched me hard in the shoulder.

"Ouch! What was that for?" I asked angrily, my good mood was gone in a flash. I rubbed my arm where he had just hit me and glared up at him, it didn't faze him, and he just kept looking at me with an angry, hurt expression.

"You expect me not to be pissed off at you for not telling me where you were going! And you were gone for so long! Come on man, we're closer friends then that aren't we? I thought you would have at least told me you were leaving if you couldn't tell me where! Jesus!" He shouted. He rubbed his face and sighed. I stood there in shock not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry Nelson…I didn't meant to hurt you…is there anything I could do to make it up to you?" I asked him quietly, trying to keep him calm. Everyone knew that when you're dealing with Nelson you had to make sure that you kept him in a happy mind set. He sighed one more time and glared down at me and if I didn't know better I would have said that tears were shining in his eyes but I knew better then to actually think Nelson would tear up.

"Okay, let's hangout, right now." He told me with a serious tone and expression, I gulped and nodded my head, smiling nervously.

"Sure Nelson, come on in." I unlocked the front door and we both stepped in. Thankfully it being a Sunday the rest of my family was still a sleep so I didn't have to worry about getting the third degree about what happened last night from Maggie or why Nelson was here so early in the morning from the rest of my family. We both walked to the front room, I got the television and Xbox 360 sat up for playing Left for dead 2.

Neither of us said anything for a little bit, just the sound of zombies being killed and guns going off on the T.V. was the only noises between us. For some reason the air stopped being as thick and it went back to being normal, not that I was complaining.

"What happened to you?" He asked me randomly after killing a hoard of zombies. I looked over at him, just in time for my game characters to almost die, Nelson sighed and saved my butt. After that he paused the game and looked over at me. The hurt, angry expression was gone but in its place was a confused, sad look remained. Looking to the carpet I pulled at it nervously.

"Well you see…" I explained everything that happened. Being taken away to Krusty's summer home, meeting Evans there and telling him who Evans was, going back to Tornstone and finding Patrick, getting kidnapped, almost being killed by the killers who turned out to be Bob's brother and ex-wife, Evan's saving my life and the hospital.

"At the hospital they took out the bullet and sewed me back up. I was just able to leave yesterday." I sighed and rubbed my neck nervously. I wasn't able to look at him through my whole story, not sure how he would take it. I looked up at him and saw that he was still looking at me but he instead of looking sad he just looked shock. I smirked at him and chuckled.

"And this is where my story catches up with the present, the two of us playing this game." Nelson didn't say anything he just kept looking at me, almost like he expected me to say 'I'm just kidding. Here's the real story.' He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at me.

"Damn. I didn't know it was going to be like that." He mumbled. Nelson stared at the floor for a bit, trying to wrap his mind around what I had just said. He looked back at me but instead of looking at my face he was staring at my chest, a few more seconds of him staring without blinking I kind of knew how girls felt when guys looked at nothing but their cleavage.

"Can I see you're stitches?" He asked me randomly. I was taken aback by his question but I recovered and nodded my head, I pulled up my shirt to my neck and held it there. The stitches were taken out before I left the hospital but it left a nasty scar.

"What do you think?" I looked up at him, smirking. Expecting him to give me a look or say something mean but instead he just kept staring at my new scar.

"Did it hurt? Going through the surgery?"

"Not really, what hurt most was getting the stitches taken out." I smirked. Pulling down my shirt, Nelson looked to the floor. I turned back to the T.V. more than ready to get the attention off of me and back on the killing of zombies but I guess Nelson had other plans. He stood up and grabbed me gently by my arm, pulling me to my feet.

"Let's do something." Nelson finally looked me in the eyes and he was smiling, which made me feel better but I was still kind of scared.

"I thought we were having fun, killing zombies."

"That's boring. Let's go ride bikes." He started to pull me towards my front door, his grip getting tighter but enough to hurt me.

"Okay, just let me leave a note for my mom." I went into the kitchen, grabbed a sticky note and said that I was going out with Nelson and I didn't know when I was going to be back but I would call if I needed anything. With that I walked out with Nelson. I got my bike out of the garage and walked beside him while we walked back to his house to get his bike.

"Ah man. I should have asked but is it good for you to do anything like riding bikes right after you're whole heart surgery?" Nelson's whole face turned pale, I patted his shoulder and smiled.

"It's okay Nelson I'll be fine as long as I take it easy, if I feel any pain I'll stop and go home, okay?" Nelson only nodded at me. When we made it to his house we walked to the back yard. Leaning against the back door was Nelson's old dirt bike.

"Okay, let's ride." We rode around town for a little bit, I waved to a few familiar faces but other than that it was a pretty tame ride. Nelson was in the lead so I just followed him wherever he was going, we rode around for about an hour before we decided to head back to my house.

"That was fun." I smiled at Nelson, while we walked through the back door.

"Yes it was." I closed the door behind me and listened for anyone. The whole house was completely silent.

"Mom? Homer?" I called. No one answered. I walked into the kitchen and saw a note on the table.

'_I'm glad that you're getting out of the house. Just be careful. Your dad, sisters and I are going out to eat and out to a movie afterwards so don't wait up and have fun. :)'_

Putting the note down I walked back out to the living room where Nelson was already killing zombies without me.

"I guess we have the house to ourselves for a bit." Nelson paused the game and looked up at me from the where he sat on the floor. Without a word he threw a controller my way and smirked.

"Sucks to be them, more zombie killing for us." I smiled and sat down beside him, we picked up where we left off and played for an hour or so, I wasn't keeping track, we both were doing our fair share of zombie killing but I needed a break. Pausing the game I stretched my arms and yawned.

"I don't know about you but I need some food." I got up and walked back into the kitchen to make something to eat. I decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I was about to add the jelly when Nelson finally joined me in the kitchen.

"Hey, do you want to make one too." He nodded and came over beside me. That's when I realized that Nelson had been acting weird all day but I could not put my finger on it until now. He was being too quiet, he only stayed quiet when something was bothering him. Looking over at him I saw that he was staring blankly at the bread he was holding in his hands, before I could ask he beat me to it.

"Do you like sideshow Bob?" He asked me in a dead serious voice. My body froze up from the random question but I made myself smile.

"Of course I do, he did save my life, and he's a dear friend." I told Nelson, trying to keep myself from blushing and it actually worked. Nelson pounded his fists against the table and started to breath heavily.

"Don't lie to me Bart. I saw him kiss your forehead and don't you fucking tell me that it was just a friendly kiss! I'm not stupid! So don't treat me like I am!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. By the time he was done ranting he had grabbed my arms and was shaking me roughly, looking at me with angry eyes.

"I didn't mean to treat you any certain way." I told him, trying to not sound as scared as I felt. Nelson's grip never loosened, if anything it tightened. He pulled me closer to him and finally hugged me tightly against his chest.

"I don't know why Bart… but you make my heart go crazy. I'm not gay but with you around I get confused. And when I saw him kiss you so softly it made my heart ache." He whispered. My heart broke from how sad his voice sounded. Nelson pulled me away from him and looked down at me, this time I was certain tears were in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed me. I pushed him away, angry that he would do such a thing.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" I shouted at him. Nelson stared at me and touched his lips, his eyes widen. He took a step towards me, trying to reach for me again but I stepped away and ran up to my room. I didn't know if he was chasing me or not and I didn't want to know, I didn't look back until my bedroom door was locked. I slid down my door and sat on the floor. It was a few minutes before I heard a small knock at my door.

"Bart? I know your there…fine don't talk, just listen." Nelson told me, his voice was a little muffled but I could still him clearly. "I don't know if you like Bob or what but I can tell you one thing, I like you…when my lips touched yours I felt something go down my spine. I've been with a few girls and none of them made me feel as wonderful through sex then what our small kiss made me feel."

Tears burned my eyes but I refused to cry, I was stronger than that. I heard a small thud on my door; my guess was that Nelson put his head against it.

"I didn't mean to kiss you Bart but when I saw Bob kiss you it made me so jealous…please come out and talk to me." I hugged my knees to my chest, there was no way I was going to go out and talk to him. "Okay, don't come out, please just tell me something. Will you give me a chance to take you out on a date? Just one date. Then you can choose. Please Bart…just give me a chance."

Silence hung over between the two of us, I didn't know what to say, I didn't want to hurt him but there was no way I was going to choose him over Bob. I didn't want to lead him on but I guess if he really wanted to go on just one date, I guess I could do that. I opened my door a crack and saw Nelson's worried expression; I sighed and swallowed my pride.

"One date."

"Yes! You won't regret this!" Nelson told me excitedly, with a huge grin.

"You have to promise me something."

"Anything, name it." He looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

"If I don't choose you, promise me that we'll still be friends." We stared at each other for a bit; there was no way I was going to lose this battle.

"Bart. I promise you that no matter what we will always be friends." He told me, his face with dead serious and so was his voice, that's why I nodded at him and closed my door. After that I heard him walk down the stairs and out the front door. Walking over to my night stand I grabbed my phone and called Bob to let him know what was going on. And I was not looking forward to his reaction.

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><p><strong>Just so everyone knows, there is only one more chapter after this one. I'm so happy that so many people have enjoyed this story, it has been a great pleasure to write. Until the next and final chapter, hope everyone enjoyed and reviews are always welcomed. :)<strong>


	32. Ch 32 Things for the better

**Hello everyone. I would like to thank everyone for staying with this story and coming to love it as much as I have writing it but don't forget the person who started this story. Thank you to Tea-cake-biscuits. I hope that everyone enjoys and thank you all again for reviewing and reading. :)**

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

"I do not approve of this at all." Bob's voice echoed over the phone. I rolled my eyes at him, I tried to explain to him the situation once again but he would not hear of it, he was over reacting but it was kind of cute about how jealous he was acting.

"Listen Bob, I already told you. It's one date, it's no big deal." I could almost feel the rage radiating off of him over the phone. Bob sighed, I could almost see him pinching his nose in annoyance. The phone went silent for a few seconds, I was about to ask if he was there but Bob sighed once again.

"I'll be over in a few hours. Then we can talk about this." After that the line really did go dead, he hung up on me. Pressing the end button I fell back onto my bed, unsure of what else I could do at this point, other than stare up at my bare ceiling. Going through the whole thing in my head I tried to figure out what I could do, a small knock at my door brought me out of my thoughts. I didn't even have to look to know that it was Maggie, she was the only one in the family who actually knocked.

Sitting up, I saw that I was right, Maggie was standing in my door way just looking at me. I smiled at her and patted the place beside me. She walked in and sat down beside me, putting an arm around her small shoulders, we sat in silence.

"I don't think you should go on a date with." I looked down at her, surprised that she knew what was going on.

"Why do you say that?" Maggie looked up at me with dead serious eyes. I was taken aback a little bit by how much she reminded me of our mom when she was like this. She finally looked away and put her small hand on my knee.

"Lisa and Bob will hate you." My eyes grew wide, not sure what Maggie was talking about. I pulled a smile onto my face and tried to act like what she just said didn't bother me.

"What are you talking about Mags? I mean I could understand if Bob gets a little peeved at me but why would Lisa hate me?"

"Lisa just wouldn't like it and come on Bart! Do you really think that Bob would let you go just after getting you?" I could hear a smile in her voice but I could also hear something else, something that I could not put my finger on. A soft smile pulled at my lips.

"Yeah I guess but I still don't understand why Lisa wouldn't like it. It's not like she loves Nelson you something." I laughed, I waited for Maggie to join in but she sat beside me, silent. Looking down at her, I noticed that her shoulders slumped a little and she was staring at the floor, that's when I realized I was right.

"Lisa loves Nelson?"

Maggie glanced up at me but her eyes went straight back to the floor. Very slowly she nodded her head, like she was almost afraid to say anything. Which it could have also been a sister thing or something I wasn't too sure.

"How do you know this?" I asked. My little sister sighed and twirled her thumbs nervously.

"Lisa told me." She whispered. My jaw fell open a little bit after her telling me that, I wasn't sure what to say. So we both sat in awkward silence, neither of us knowing what else to say or ask. I don't know how long we both sat there but I can say I remember how weird it felt.

"What do you think I should do Maggie?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"Why are you asking me?" Her voice was low and she sounded sad. Reaching over I pulled her to m side and leaned my head down until it was resting against hers.

"Because you know how to deal with stuff like this better than anyone I know." A few more minutes passed until finally Maggie got up from my bed and started to pace in front me. I watched her in silence, not wanting to break her concentration. Finally she stopped and a huge smile came to her face.

"Do you have an idea?"

"Yes I do but we need Bob, Lisa and a ton of makeup."

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked the second youngest Simpson child once again. She glared up at me and out her hands on her hips, she was the spitting image of her mother not that I would actually tell her that.

"For the fifth time in a row Bob, yes I believe this is a good idea."

We both stood outside on the Simpson's porch, waving goodbye to Bart and Nelson. If it wasn't for my young lover having to leave I would have certainly jumped him.

"Would you be so kind as to explain your idea to me again?" I asked. Margaret sighed at me but nodded.

"The plan Bob is that Bart is going on this date as promise, it will last about two hours, before they can continue I will call Bart's cell acting frantic and telling him that Lisa's been hurt, this is where your makeup skills come in handy, you will make it look like she had a bad fall down the stairs, which will help Nelson realize that he really loves Lisa not Bart. And if everything goes as planned, everyone will live happily ever after."

She beamed up at me, it was at times like this that I was reminded that she was only eight but she acted so much older most of the time. It was refreshing to know that she still believed in happy endings in the real world.

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><p>POV: Bart<p>

I knew Maggie's plan was fool proof but I was still nervous. Looking over at Nelson, he was dressed in a black button down shirt, nice dress pants and his hair looked really nice. I wore my button down purple shirt with black pants, looking back out the window I tried to stay clam but something was stopping me.

'_What if this doesn't work? What if Nelson catches on?'_

I was brought out of my thoughts by Nelson.

"…that's what I'm thinking anyways." I looked over at him and blinked a couple of times, I was completely lost in what he was just talking about. He looked over at me with raised eyebrows.

"Does that sound okay?" I rubbed my forehead and gave him my innocent smile.

"I'm sorry Nelson, I didn't hear what you said, and what did you say?" Nelson smirked at me and shook his head.

"No problem. I was just saying that we could go eat first and then eat afterwards if that's okay with you." I smiled and nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea." Nelson stayed quiet and kept pulling at his neck collar, he actually looked nervous but I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable so I tried to break the ice.

"So which movie are we going to see?" I asked him, trying my best to make him more at ease. He cleared his throat and got me a small smile.

"I was hoping that we could go see that new comedy if that okay." I knew that Nelson could be a nice guy but I didn't know he could be so considerate. I smiled back at him and nodded.

"That sounds like an awesome idea." The ice was broken and he seemed to more relaxed. For the rest of the ride we both listened to the music on the radio. Soon enough we made it to the Movie Theater and Nelson was nice enough to pay for everything. I got to pick where we sat (all the way in the back row) and Nelson was a sweetheart.

Halfway through the movie our elbows touched.

"Sorry about that Lisa." There was a second of silence between us, as it dawned on him that he called me Lisa and I was shocked to find that it kind of hurt a little bit. The rest of the movie was funny as hell but I didn't really feel like laughing anymore and neither did Nelson because he didn't say or laugh another word. After the movie we both went to his car in silence. We sat for less than a second before Nelson put his forehead against the steering wheel and sighed.

"I thought if I went out with you I would be able to forget about her." His voice was so small and quiet, it almost made my heart break, almost. I was taken aback by what he said, to say I was confused was an understatement.

"Hold on a sec, what are you talking about?" Nelson sighed and beat his head against the wheel a couple of times.

"It's a long story." I put a gentle hand on his shoulder; he looked up at me, his eyes shining with tears, I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept a straight face.

"I have time." Nelson's eyes got wide, he must have realized that I was not going to stop bothering him until he told me. He looked away and sighed once again. Nelson nodded his head and sat back in his seat.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll tell you." He sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "It happened after you left from the hospital. I didn't know what happened to you… a few days after not seeing you I went to your house, I was all prepared to ask where you were but Lisa answered the door and she was crying." My eyes grew wide from what he had said, I didn't know what to say to that.

"Out of all your family Bart, Lisa took it the hardest and she couldn't hide it. For some reason or another she held onto me while she cried, telling me how much she missed you, I didn't know what else to do but hold her back. I've never been good at handling girls crying. I took her up to her room, I never let her go. Some things lead to others and we ended up doing it."

I sat there shell shocked, not even prepared to hear that. Leaning back against my own chair, I stared out the front window trying to keep my thoughts in order but it was a little difficult.

"I do still love her but after we were done she acted mad and made me leave, I tried to comfort her but she only pushed me away and yelled at me to go. I was heartbroken and for some reason when I saw Bob kiss you I focused my whole being on trying to get to you because you are my best friend and maybe just maybe I could forget about her."

Nelson was never good at acting so when his voice got caught in his throat and he choked back a sob I knew he was serious. Reaching over I patted his shoulder and sighed.

"I wasn't expecting that but I know that you are being serious about loving her and Lisa…I know she still loves you." Nelson looked over at me, his eyes still glistening.

"How do you know?" Before I could tell him my cell went off. I looked down, it was Maggie, she was right on time.

"Hello."

"_Bart please hurry home! Lisa fell down the stairs."_

"Calm down Maggie, I'll be back as soon as possible."

Before I had even hung up the phone Nelson speeding out the parking lot, heading straight to my house.

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><p>POV: Bob<p>

Margaret had just hung up my phone and was smiling over at Lisa, who thanks to my skills in makeup, looked like she took a nasty spill down a flight of stairs and was now resting in her bed.

"I hope this works Maggie." Lisa mumbled under her breath, the little one walked over to her sister and tucked her in a bit more, still smiling.

"Don't worry this plan is fool proof. Any minute now Nelson will be coming up those stairs saying how sorry he is and that he loves you." Lisa looked down at her feet, acting like she didn't know what to say to that. Before anyone else could say anything the front door was slammed opened and someone ran up the stairs.

Nelson shoved me out of the way and went to Lisa's side just as the little one had said. He knelt down at her side, holding her hand like it was his life line. Bart was in the room a few seconds later, smiling at the couple.

"Oh my God, are you okay Lisa?" He asked, worry was all over his face, he was down by side, looking at her with nothing but love in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry Lisa I didn't mean to push you aside but you acted like you didn't want to see me anymore so I tried to forget about you." Nelson reached up and touched Lisa's cheek gently. "Now I realize that there is no way that I could ever love someone else the way I love you. I hope that you can forgive me."

Lisa just looked down at him, her eyes tearing up a little bit. She raised his head so that he was looking her in the eyes and a tender smile came to her face. She reached up and wiped off some of the makeup on her face. Nelson's face was priceless, he was so confused but Lisa only giggled at him.

"This was a stunt to see if you really did love me and I can tell that you do. I have something to tell you too. I love you." Without missing a beat Nelson was up off the ground and kissed Lisa tenderly on the mouth. I wrapped my hand around Maggie's eyes to keep her from seeing anymore and I pulled Bart out by his arm, once we were all out of the room, I closed the door so the love birds could have some privacy.

I let go of both of the Simpson children and Margaret smirked up at me.

"Do you doubt my ideas now Bob?" She asked me. I shook my head at her.

"No I do not and I apologize for doubting you." I told her with a smile. She nodded at me and started walking towards her own room.

"Well I better get going so you and Bart can start making out. See you guys later." I could hear the smile in her voice but as not as soon as her door was closed I grabbed Bart and gave him a bruising kiss but he didn't seem to mind because he clung to me and moaned softly. We came up for air, both gasping for air.

"You're bed or mine?" I asked him. Bart smiled up at me and tightened his grip around my neck, pulling me towards his room. Smiling I picked him up and ran to his room. Closing the door shut with my foot I placed him on the bed and locked the door.

Walking back over to my lover I sat down and pulled him so that he was straddling my lap. The blush that came across his face was one of the most adorable things I have ever seen. Slowly I leaned in and started to kiss his neck, a shiver went down his spine, and I smiled that's what I was waiting for. Bart tilted his head up, exposing more of his neck, silently asking for more.

Holding him tightly I started to kiss everywhere that wasn't covered, biting down a couple of times, that made him moan in a way that I hadn't heard before and I wanted to hear more of it. I picked up and laid him down against his bed. He looked up at me, lust and love shining in his eyes. Smiling down at him I slowly started to unbutton my own shirt. Bart followed my lead. We were both nude in a matter of seconds it seemed like.

Lying down on top of him, the moon light came shining through the window in just a way that his pale blue eyes seemed to shine. I gently and tenderly kissed his lips, wanting nothing more than to make him happy.

"I love you Bart." I whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear my confession. I had already told him I loved him but his one seemed so much more important. His blue eyes looked into mine, it seemed like he could crush my soul with them if he really wanted to. Bart reached up and glided his fingers over my cheek, I closed my eyes and held it against my face, not wanting to let him go.

"I love you too Bob." Opening my eyes, I smiled down at my lover and kissed him. Our kisses that were sweet and tender turned hard and bruising but neither of us seemed to mind, in fact Bart seemed to like it even more. When we need to breath we stopped kissing and put our foreheads together.

"Bob, please take me. Right now, I don't care if it hurts, I just need you." Bart panted. Looking down at him, I wanted to make sure that he knew what he was asking for.

"My love, if I don't get you ready it will hurt you." He reached up and pulled me down closer.

"I don't care, I just need you." Bart whispered. Kissing him softly, I lined myself up at his entrance and without giving him a warning to tighten up, I went in. It was tight and he looked like he was in pain but he told me to keep going. I didn't stop moving until I was completely inside of him.

"Please don't move." He whispered, wincing from the pain, to get his mind off of it, I grabbed his dick and started to pump it and at the same time kissed him. Soon enough Bart started to moan and gave me the okay to start moving.

Since we didn't have any lube or anything moving in and out was a little difficult but soon enough thanks to my precum I started to move a little bit smoother. Bart was moaning below asking for more but the next thing he asked for caught me off guard.

"Bob! Please thrust hard and fast! As fast as you can!" He moaned loudly. I couldn't take it anymore; I lost control and started pounding into him, not giving him a second to relax. He came not so soon after, his inner walls clamped down around my dick and made me come as well.

I pulled out of him and laid down beside my love, Bart snuggled up against my chest. Wrapping my arm around him I kissed his forehead, being so thankful that I had everything I wanted right in my arms.

"Hey Bob, why do you love me?" Bart asked. I looked down at him and saw that he was looking right back at me. I sat up and gave him a worried look.

"Why would you ask that?" It wasn't like I didn't want to answer I just wanted to know why he was asking now. Bart sat up on his knees and bit his lower lip, he was acting so nervous it made me nervous as well.

"Well you're so good looking you could probably get anybody you want. Why in the hell would you pick me? I mean I'm just a kid that made your life horrible when I was younger and I'm not the best looking, so I was just wondering why you loved me." He whispered the last part under his breath. Bart had his head down, afraid to look me in the eye. I gently took his chin in my hand and brought his face up until he was looking at me.

"The reason I love you Bart Simpson is because you're a real person. You've always had this way about you that made other people interested. You care about others more then you let on. You're a shyer person then most and you can survive many things." I explained. Bart's eyes glistened but a sweet smile played on his face.

"Really?"

"Yes. That and you've had my heart since the moment I saw you." I kissed him gently and lay back down, opening my arms for him to join me. He snuggled up against me again, I pulled up the covers and got really comfortable.

"I hope we will always be this happy." Bart said in a yawn. I smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head once more, holding him tighter against me.

"If I have anything to do with it we will always be happy." I whispered. The only response I got back from my lover was a light snore. Chuckling I pulled the covers a little higher and got ready to go to sleep myself and only one thought was going through my mind.

'_May we always be happy no matter what.'_

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><p><strong>Thank you everyone once again for loving this story and I am sorry that this chapter is a little late but I had kind of a stressful week which paid off today. My friend had her baby boy today! :D So I am dedicating this chapter to him and his mother. And I hope that everyone enjoyed the last chapter of nice of you to think of me. <strong>


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